


It Never Fails

by Lucca_Kane



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-12 20:50:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2124276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucca_Kane/pseuds/Lucca_Kane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It never fails to make him hard. The knife sliding into unsuspecting flesh, blood bubbling forth from the fresh wound and pooling as he slices the sharp blade oh so delicately through sensitive nerves that would surely be permanently damaged if not for respawn or Medic. </p><p>It never fails to make him hard.</p><p>It also infuriates him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been written at very early hours to combat insomnia, so if nothing makes sense I'm sorry. Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.

       The desert is the desert. Sure the others complain of the heat and the dust, but it's nothing compared to the outback. Blazing sun and desolate wastelands cause dirt and dust to cake up in your lungs whether you want it to or not. But the desert is exactly that, so Sniper doesn't complain.

 

    It takes quite a bit to make the bushman mad, hell even irritated, but if there's one human being on planet Earth who's calling in life is to infuriate and irritate him, it's Spy. The enemy Spy to be more specific. The Spy on his own team he hardly even speaks to, a few words here and there passed in the halls. Nothing too major, both Sniper and RED Spy are private men, and both are okay with that.

     The BLU Spy on the other hand, is in Scout's own terms, "Fuckin' crazy!"

     At first Sniper doesn't agree, since he isn't one for judging people without knowing them, even if he is the enemy. But that's before the Spy focuses his attention on him.

     It starts with paranoia. Every once in a while whilst camping out in his nest he sees or hears movement behind him. Its nothing knew, but when he whips around to brandish his Kukri, ready for the glint of the Spy's balisong, it never comes. The silent back stab never comes either, and it makes Sniper uncomfortable and wary.

     Next Sniper can swear he _smells_ the man. Strong French cologne and the stench of some sort of berry cigarettes fills the nest, but when Sniper turns, there's no one there. Day in and day out the same cycle repeats and Sniper swears the BLU Spy is tormenting him, making him far more paranoid than is healthy. Sniper doesn't understand it. If Spy reaches his perch, why doesn't he take the opportunity to take the kill? If he was in the other man's position he would take the chance. He doesn't understand the man's game, but at least the Spy isn't interrupting his own work too badly. The smell of those berry cigarettes almost becomes a comfort to him as they whisp through his nest. Eventually Sniper stops reacting to the smell and the slight movements at the corners of his eyes. The only thing he moves at is the clacking of a balisong opening in expert hands.

 

      Then suddenly, it all stops. Completely.

     

     He doesn't smell the cigarettes and he doesn't hear anything suspicious, and after the fourth day when Sniper shoots the head of a BLU Scout zooming by, an idle thought of where Spy has gone wanders through his head. All day it niggles at the back of his mind, and although it doesn't cause his work to suffer, Sniper feels far more exhausted than normal by the time the work day begins winding down.

     Ten minutes are left in the match and Sniper is trying to get a few more headshots in before the round is done when the familiar scent of berry smoke floats through his nest. Although Sniper notices, he doesn't react to it, pulling the trigger of his rifle and taking out a BLU Demoman with ease. What he doesn't notice, is that he's physically relaxed at the smell of those cigarettes and at the faint whisp of French cologne.

 

     Sniper's breath chokes when a searing pain slices through his concentration. It feels like someone is trying to separate him in half, and he probably isn't that far off in his assumption. He feels blood pool and drip out of his mouth and his lungs crackle with the fluid now building up in them. His hands are paper white on the grip of his rifle, and he can't move. The wound is not an instant kill. This is an injury to endure and slowly bleed out from. This is entertainment, this is amusement, and when Sniper hears a low laugh in his ear and the familiar sound of a Spy de-cloaking, he knows that Spy did all of this for some sort of sick fun. "You should not ever let your guard down around me, _ma petite proie_ ," Spy's whisper is sharp over the roar in his ears and he can feel blood starting to seep through the front of his shirt as Spy digs and twists his knife further into his body. "I hope you do not plan to underestimate me again."

     Sniper grunts angrily and he turns his head as far as he can in his injured state. His eyes meet with the cold grey of the other mercenary's, "Piss off," he growls, spitting a mouth full of blood onto Spy's face on the 'P'. 

     Spy's almost disturbing smile drops completely and the next thing Sniper knows is that he's waking up in the respawn room. The match is over, his spine tingles, and his mouth still tastes of blood.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if/when I'll add more. This story is written in my spare time whenever I have my phone in my hands.
> 
> So we'll see.


	2. Chapter 2

     Sniper is hyper aware of everything now. Sure he was before, it's part of his job being a Sniper, but now he reacts to every noise that enters the nest, even if he's the one that made it. It irritates him, but he figures that it will pass after a few days, a week at the most, he tells himself. Spy is just irritating him and he made the mistake of letting Spy get into his head. He won't make it again.

     So when he smells cologne-with no cigarette smoke this time-tickling his nose not two days later, Sniper wastes no time unsheathing his kukri and slicing the air behind him. Sniper glares at the empty air but keeps his guard up. It's always hard to fight someone hand to hand, and there's no exception here, especially in a nest as small as this one. He whiffs the air again with his Kukri, his grip on it white. He will not be made a fool of again. "Did you miss me, _ma petite proie_?" Spy's whisper is sharp in his ear and it makes Sniper grit his teeth and whirl around with his kukri only to whiff the air again.

     He hears a low laugh almost like a breeze as if Spy is leaving and in a last ditch effort Sniper hurls his kukri towards the only exit to the nest. It's risky, since he could potentially loose his knife, but a smile creeps across his face when he sees his knife stick in the air and hears an agony filled growl. Sniper springs up and reaches for the knife, pushing it further into invisible flesh until Spy de-cloaks in a whoosh of blue smoke. "Gotcha bloody wanka," Sniper snarls. 

     He roughly pulls the knife out and watches as Spy tries not to fall. The assassin spins and catches himself on one of the walls to the nest, one gloved hand clutching at his bleeding chest while the other smears blood on the wall. Spy attempts to right himself in the throes of what Sniper can imagine is agony. Sniper is rather surprised that Spy is even still alive, but from the bloodstain spreading quickly from the epicenter of the wound Sniper can guess the other assassin won't be alive for very long. "This time, _Ma petite proie_ ," Spy chuckles, blood spilling from his mouth as he slowly slides down the wall behind him.

     Sniper notices with slight disgust that Spy is leaving streaks of blood behind, but what is more disturbing is that Spy is still laughing, digging a gloved hand into he flesh around his wound and pulling it together as if it would actually stop the bleeding. On the contrary it makes the blood gush more, and it makes Sniper sneer. He steps forward with his kukri, kneeling down before Spy. "Don't underestimate me eitha, wanka," he practically hisses as he presses his kukri to Spy's throat.

     Spy's smile only cracks wider and he surges up against the knife, getting into Sniper's face. He either is not aware of the knife on his neck or he doesn't care as he presses against it, " _Ensuite, laissez-nous jouer à un jeu, monsieur tireur_!" He growls.

     Sniper doesn't let him say any more before quickly drawing his knife across the other's wind pipe.

     It takes a minute for Spy to be collected by respawn, and when he is Sniper sighs and wonders how he's going to get the blood streaks off the walls.     

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. I felt it needed to end there.


	3. Chapter 3

     For some reason Spy has stopped smoking when he comes into Sniper's nest. He hasn't stopped wearing his expensive cologne though so Sniper figures its not a matter of being stealthy.

 

     It's been a week since Spy offered to 'play a game' with him. Sniper didn't know at first what the Frenchman had said, until the Spy on his own team mentioned it in passing. Apparently he had heard the growl of French as he was 'idly passing by' on the battle field. Sniper thanked his teammate even though he doesn't know what to do with the information. What does BLU Spy mean by, 'play a game?' What kind of game is he implying? The thoughts stay in the back of his mind even during work, and it irritates Sniper that he's still even thinking about Spy even when he promised himself that he wouldn't let Spy get into his head again. Then again he's thinking about what in the hell Spy has planned, so maybe it's not so bad. It exhausts him just mulling it over in his head, and it makes him wish they could go back to the days where they just killed each other with no games. How fucked up is that?

   Sniper reloads his rifle with ease, hardly feeling the pinch of the sliding bolt on his thumb as he reloads it too fast. He then sits back for a few seconds to watch the BLU team scramble to compensate for their sudden lack of a Medic. He nearly drops his rifle when he hears the distinct sound of Ambassador cocking dangerously close in his ear. "Round one goes to me, _Monsieur Tireur_ ," Spy whispers in his ear, but there is a distinct lack of cigarette smoke that usually accompanies his threats.

  "Did ya stop smoking?" Perhaps not the smartest choice of last words he could have picked, but Sniper has never claimed to be smart.

   He can tell he's confused Spy with the question when his brains aren't immediately splattered against the nearest wall. "Why does it matter?"

   Ok, brains still intact. That's a good sign. Maybe if he stalls Spy he can think of a plan somehow. "Yer always smoking when you find me," Sniper almost shrugs, but he refrains in case the sudden movement causes Spy to decide to kill him after all.

   Spy is silent for another long moment, " _Oui_ , I ran out," he says.

   "Why?" This has to be one of the weirdest conversation circumstances he's ever been in, but Sniper is still alive and the round is winding down. Even if he doesn't come up with a plan to get out of this alive and kill Spy, it may give his team an advantage.

   Sniper feels the barrel of the large pistol pressing against the soft spot under his ear and behind his jaw. His teeth clench and his heartbeat skyrockets. "I believe it is your fault _Monsieur Tireur_. You're ze one who has been favoring shots to ze heart lately."

   "I shot through yer cigarettes?" Sniper asks, almost turning his head but the gun barrel presses tighter against him.

   "You know well enough I keep zem in my disguise case!" Spy growls, and Sniper can't help but chuckle.

   "Not my fault ya keep 'em there, mate," he says.

   "Warning, a RED Spy is in the base! Protect the briefcase!" The Announcer's voice suddenly blares over the loudspeakers.

  It makes Sniper laugh, "Looks like our Spy didn't waste time gettin' ta your briefcase."

   He hears Spy growl something in French before he pulls the trigger. Sniper wakes up in respawn and makes it back to his nest just in time for the round to be over with a victory to RED. Sniper frowns; it doesn't feel like a victory to him.

Spy: 1

Sniper: 0

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be forewarned, there is a quick mention of suicide in this chapter. It's nothing graphic but Spy does casually mention it. I just want to be sure not to catch anyone off guard.

   The next time Sniper is in town he finds himself questioning every choice he's ever made in his life up until this point. He's in a convenience store, looking at-of all things-cigarettes.

   He was just idly looking at them when the attendant speaks up, "You want some?"

   Sniper practically jumps out of his boots, "Um well....I dun suppose ya got any flavored ones?" He asks on a whim, rubbing the back of his neck. The action tilts his hat lower over his eyes.

   The cashier gives him a look and reaches up to grab a pack. He sets it down in front of Sniper. They're some kind of herb as far as he can tell, and the cashier gives him a raised brow as if to ask whether or not he was going to buy them.

   He ends up buying them. He doesn't know why. Out of obligation? Certainly not out of kindness, but when he takes them out of the plastic convenience store bag and sets them on his small fold out kitchen table, he wonders why he went through with it.

   They stay on that table for three days.

 

 

   The BLU Sniper is far too predictable for his taste, but his counterpart, now he was far more interesting. The BLU Spy admits that the cigarette question had caught him off guard, and it was something that intrigued him. In his mind he's winning their little game so far, and is even slightly disappointed that the RED Sniper seems to not understand that he's allowed to play along. Perhaps he should raise the stakes? But with death a daily occurrence between the mercenaries, how could he possibly raise the stakes? The whole conundrum makes him itch for a cigarette, but he'd rather go without than have to bum one off one of the other BLUs. He has standards _merci beaucoup_.

   Every day of work without a cigarette is pushing him closer and closer to actual madness. He can hardly stand his co-workers as it is but he swears if Scout tries to go on another tirade while he's around he might actually kill the boy for real. The others seem to notice his irritation and give him a wide berth, which under normal circumstances he would have welcomed. Although now the cigarette dilemma is starting to effect his work, which in his opinion is unprofessional. That just irritates him even more. _Enfer putain_ he needed a cigarette! 

  "Why don'tcha just go buy cigarettes from town?" Scout had asked him this morning, and when Spy sees a RED Pyro sneaking up on him later that day, he has half a mind not to tell the boy. He shoots the Pyro anyway from the shield of his cloak and Scout jumps when he hears the fallen body and truly notices just how close he was to being burned alive again. "Thanks Spook!" He says as Spy de-cloaks.

   "Watch your own back from now on," he simply says while he reloads Ambassador.

   "You got it frog legs!" Scout lazily salutes before bolting off.

   

    He's bored. This is boring. They've done this dozens of times and really, is there any consequence of losing the briefcase? Is there any gain to stealing one? If there is Spy wants to know because otherwise this is pointless and boring and frankly a huge waste of his time. He's never going cold turkey again. It's only making the monotony of this war far more obvious and far more annoying. Maybe he should go bother Sniper before he blows his own brains out due to boredom. He idly wonders if that would count as a kill to BLU or RED as he strides easily unseen towards Sniper's nest.

 

 

 

   The nest is empty.

 

   It's empty.

 

   What?

 

   Is this some kind of joke?

 

   Where is he?

 

 

   Against his better judgment Spy de-cloaks and wanders carefully into the nest, his knife at the ready. Where is the RED Sniper? This isn't fair. He's not allowed to leave. Spy notices something sitting on the otherwise empty table where Sniper usually keeps his coffee mug and those vile Jarate jars.

 

   A pack of cigarettes.

 

   Attached is a note, scrawled out in barely legible English. Spy snatches the pack up and curses low under his breath. "You win this round _Monsieur Tireur_ ," he growls and storms out of the nest, only subconsciously aware that he still has the cigarettes clutched in his fist.

 

 

**_Catch me if you can._ **

****

**_-Sniper_ **

 

 

 

Spy:1

Sniper:1

 


	5. Chapter 5

   The cigarettes sit in Spy's smoking room for three days before he finally breaks.

   He lights up but frowns after the first drag. The cigarettes are cheap and the wrong flavor and leave a bad taste in his mouth, but the nicotine sets in rather quickly and he relaxes enough to be angry and impressed.

   So Sniper has decided to play along on his own terms? He's mocked Spy with the cigarettes and it disgusts the Frenchman. He grinds the cigarette out in the ashtray with more vindictiveness then is probably necessary. But for the first time in quite some time his mind is clear. He stands up and storms out of his smoking room, determined to make the Australian pay for mocking him.

 

 

   Spy seems to have dropped off the face of the planet. Sniper had acted spontaneously, moving his nest and leaving the cigarettes with the challenge note. He figured he had welcomed the hell beast to come find him and have his way, but he hasn't seen hide nor tail of Spy for about three days. It's a litte disconcerting and Sniper makes sure to keep his guard up more than is probably healthy.

  
   The end of the round is coming to a close, which should have tipped Sniper off. Spy always seems to strike just before the end of the round. Is it a habit? Is Spy aware of it? Is Spy trying to get one more kill before the end of the round and have a little fun doing it? Is it really the only fun Spy has? He needs a hobby if thats the case. Then again, being a Spy probably is Spy's hobby.

  
   The smell of cigarette smoke comes wafting into the new nest, but it smells all wrong. This is all wrong. The nest is wrong, the cigarettes are wrong, everything is wrong. Sniper abandons his rifle for his SMG and he turns, not expecting to see Spy standing there, not even cloaked. It takes Sniper aback, and his aim falters for a second. Spy takes the opening and in a flash he's got Sniper up against the wall, SMG abandoned on the floor and balisong pressed up against his Adam's apple. "You think you can mock me, _sale petit tireur_?"

  
  Sniper remains calm. Spy is mad; hell Spy is _furious._ The Frenchman is pressed so close that the cigarette could burn Sniper's cheek. "Yer smoking 'em aint ya?" Why can't he just keep his big mouth shut? Does he have a death wish? Apparently he does but he just can't help it.

  
   The question throws Spy into a rage and Sniper hears the Frenchman growl in a way that he can't remember ever hearing before. " _Pensez-vous que vous pouvez mock moi?! Je vais m'assurer que lorsque je suis fait avec vous même respawn ne serez pas capable de mettre votre corps arrière ensemble_!"

  
   Instead of slicing his neck, Spy presses Sniper further against the wall. Sniper growls back, reaching up to grip Spy's wrists and trying to keep the raging Frenchman at bay. They struggle against one another for a long moment, both of them growling and grunting, trying to get the upper hand. They finally trip and tumble and land with Sniper on top, his hands gripping Spy's wrists probably harder than necessary, but the man is bucking and spitting curses at him in French. The balisong clacks forgotten on the ground, and Sniper kicks it away so that Spy can't reach it. The cigarette that was in Spy's mouth has fallen and is smoldering beside him, and Sniper would rather his new nest didn't get burned down. "Will ya calm down?!"

  
   The words come out louder than he expects them too, and both men freeze. The sound of the war around them becomes far louder as they stare each other down.

  
   It doesn't last long. Spy returns to himself and bucks up against Sniper, " _Connard!_ Don't tell me to calm down!!"

  
   The way they fell left Sniper with one of his knees pressed in between Spy's legs, and as he shifts and presses down against the raging Frenchman, he tenses in an intense spine lock of realization.

 

   Seriously?

  
   Is he serious?

 

   Is he really?

 

   "What-?" Sniper finds himself trailing off, unable to not spare a glance to where his knee is pressing tight against Spy's crotch.

  
   Spy suddenly becomes compliant, and sags against the floor. He says nothing for a long moment and stares at Sniper, the look a mix of anger, indifference, and something decidedly more...primal? "If you're going to kill me zen do it now. I don't need to be mocked by you any further."

  
   Sniper frowns and leans in close, "Yer the one who wanted to play a game you bloody drongo," he growls, "and what's a game without a little mockin' here and there?" Spy physically turns his head to break their connected gaze. He doesn't say anything. "You started this game, and it doesn't get to stop just because it ain't fun for you nomore and you stop winnin'."

   
   Spy scoffs lightly and returns his gaze, "I don't need to explain myself to you."

  
   Sniper makes a face as he's reminded of the situation he and his leg are in, but he dares not to back off in case Spy takes advantage of it and does him in after all. "I don't want any of yer explanations."

  
   After another long moment of tense silence, Sniper decides to pull back quickly, crouching with his hand reaching for his Kukri just in case, but Spy doesn't move. He remains laying on the floor, his legs spread and his arms laying limp beside his head. He looks open and vulnerable in a way that Sniper has never seen before and the bushman has to take a moment to swallow over the sudden lump in his throat before he stands fully. The Australian reaches for his abandoned SMG, and points it at Spy, "Rack off or I'll shoot."

  
   Spy doesn't move and looks up at Sniper with hooded eyes. "Go ahead, I'm done playing for today," he says quietly.

   Sniper makes a face. The round ends just as he fires a bullet straight into Spy's head.

   Today's victory belongs to BLU, and Sniper can feel it as he stares at the pool of blood staining the wooden floors.

 

 

Spy: 1

Sniper: 2

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got really Non-Con/Dub-Con really fast and in a way I didn't expect. Just a warning to those who are uncomfortable or triggered by those things.

   Sweat drips from each of their bodies, pooling and mingling where their skin brushes against the other's. Hands hold heads and hips as they grind against one another in the midst of passion. As the arousal within him builds the care for how he'll feel when the passion ends begins to chip and ebb away, leaving nothing but wanton abandon. White hot brilliance and pleasure surges through him, a passion filled screech exits his body as he clutches the other so very close. " _Je t'aime, mon cœur._ "

  
   Sniper jerks awake, panting and drenched in a cold sweat that sends him into shivers as he tries to make sense of what the fuck just happened. He runs a shaking hand through his hair, the tufts sticking up at odd angles that Sniper doesn't particularly care about at the moment. "Wot the bloody hell?" He asks to the darkness of his van.

   He continues to blink into the darkness, staring so long that his eyes start to adjust even further to the dark. The Australian takes a deep shuddering breath and puts his head in his hands. What in the ever loving fuck dream was that? He shifts but the movement causes him to tense so fast he swears it actually makes his stomach lurch threateningly. No....what? Sure he hadn't actually been laid in a while, but this? Sniper glances at his watch which hands are faintly glowing at him. 4:23 am. Sniper groans and flops back down on his bed, ignoring the way that the springs groan and object to the movement in return. He's going to have to get up in an hour, and there's practically no way that he's going to get any more sleep. He groans once more for good measure as he shifts and he's once again reminded of his arousal.

 

   Bugger. Bugger all.

  
   Even the so familiar action of shooting his rifle is wearing him down today. The strength of the recoil almost surprises him every time he pulls the trigger and he growls in anger.The thought that Spy potentially messed with his mind even further and went so far as to temper with his dreams isn't such a fantastical idea to Sniper at this current state and moment. Then again he hasn't particularly had a good night sleep in the first place. And whose fault is that? It's a vicious circle.

  
   At a lull in the battle Sniper reaches for his coffee pot, pouring another cup of. It's just after noon and he's already on his third cup. He gulps it down in practically one go and resists the urge to refill it again. The Australian shakes himself awake, slipping his rifle over his shoulder and deciding to get out of his nest. It's making him unnaturally stir crazy right now. He quietly slips out with a quick check of the area to make sure that it's clear for him to move as safely as he can to the battlements. RED Scout zooms by and he hardly registers the boy as he searches through his scope.

   He doesn't see anyone of interest making off with a briefcase, but he shoots the BLU Scout because he knows their team will be scrambling since none of them really have the ability to get in and out of RED's compound fast enough. Of course there's always Spy, who could just silently waltz through the compound unseen or disguised and get the Intel himself, but Sniper hasn't seen the Frenchman all day. The Australian figures Spy is making sure he doesn't.

   Another lull in the battle comes around about an hour later. RED has taken out most of the BLU team at one time, and it takes a while for all of them to race back onto the battlefield from Respawn. This is usually when Medic is running around like a chicken with its head cut off, making sure everyone is healed enough and Heavy is ready at any moment to be Ubercharged. Sniper's still got his eye in his scope but he sees Medic approach out of the corner of his other eye. "Don't need no healin' mate," he says.

   "Have you been getting enough sleep _Herr_ Sniper? You seem a little off today," Medic asks quickly.

   It's not something Medic usually asks, but the man is in fact a doctor and would probably take interest when someone's not quite up to snuff. "Yeah, mate. Just had a bit of a rough nights sleep. Should be right as rain tomorrow."

   Sniper should have known. He should have KNOWN. A familiar knife in unfamiliar hands presses against his windpipe. He's pressed against his cover where no one can see them and he hears the hissing smoke of a Spy's disguise kit disengaging. "And what exactly caused zis lack of sleep, _M_ _on tireur_? I thought you were more professional zan to let a little game slow you down."

   "Bugger off," Sniper growls through his teeth, resisting the urge to spit at the other man.

   "Perhaps you are not as skilled as I thought you were. You're not good enough to play games monsieur....you disappoint me," Spy clicks his tongue at the other man, shaking his head.

   Sniper can hear the smile on Spy's lips as the man hisses into his ear. "Yer a piece of shit." He grunts when Spy presses him closer against his cover. The wood creaks against their weight, and a slight fear of it breaking and sending both of them tumbling into the dirt far below catches Sniper's focus.

   He squirms against Spy but he doesn't move enough to be able to throw a punch. It makes Spy's grey-blue eyes narrow. He leans in close and drops his voice to a low murmur. "What kept you awake _M_ _on tireur_?" He asks slowly, and a small smirk graces his lips when Sniper shivers. His free gloved hand trails slowly down Sniper's left side and lands on his hip.

   "Let go," Sniper growls through his teeth again, but the sound comes out far less forceful than the Australian would have wished.

   Spy only grips Sniper's hip harder and pulls the other man closer to him. "Am I making you uncomfortable..... _Monsieur_ Mundy?"

   Sniper's eyes widen and he whips his head around to look at Spy, whose smile only grows more wicked. Spy leans forward, so close that Sniper can feel the Frenchman's breath tickling the shell of his ear. It makes him shiver violently and clench his eyes shut. "Kill me or let me go." Sniper refuses to believe it sounded like he was begging.

   Spy let out a soft chuckle, "Oh, you're being no fun, _Monsieur_ Mundy."

   Sniper shivers again and feels Spy's hand move from his hip, leaving a burning sensation like a fresh brand in its wake. When Sniper realizes just where the hand is headed he lets out a shuddering, "Stop." He doesn't understand. What the hell is wrong with him? Normally he would at least be putting up a fight, but he can't move any more than shaking like a leaf. His limbs feel like they are made of lead and everything is in slow motion and he can't stop it and he doesn't know why. What's wrong with him?!

   Spy's hand reaches its destination and the masked man lets out a decisively cruel laugh. There is a tinge of amusement intertwined in it and it makes a hot wash of shame rush throughout Sniper's body, starting where Spy's hand grips him. "Oh _Monsieur_ Mundy....I do believe I am making you ze opposite of uncomfortable," he teases, kneading his hand slightly at the half hard bulge in-between Sniper's legs. " _c'est intéressant._ "

   Sniper's mind is running a thousand miles a minute and a thousand things he wants to scream flash through him, but none of them manage to escape. His teeth are clamped shut as well as his eyes and he tries to block everything out.

   A gunshot pierces through the confusion of his mind and a wet splash of blood and probably brain matter splatters against his face. Spy's body slumps to the ground and Sniper feels like there's a weight that's been lifted from more than just his body. He whips around to face his savior and is surprised to see Scout standing there, lowering his pistol as he stares at the BLU Spy's crumpled body. The boy glances up at Sniper, his face hard in a way Sniper has never seen. His eyes search Sniper's stunned face before flicking to Spy and back again. Sniper steps forward to say something, but another hot wash of this time disgust flies through him when he realizes he's still half hard. Bile rises up in his throat but he swallows it down. He's not thrown up over worse things. Scout's eyes flicker to the center of Sniper's problem and they widen. The boy still doesn't say anything and Sniper thinks it's the longest he's ever heard the boy be silent. Scout's eyes snap back up to Sniper's and his face is no longer hard. There is a tinge of worry in the blue depths. Sniper opens his mouth to try again to speak to the boy, but Scout turns and flees before he gets the chance to. Sniper notices for the first time that in Scout's other hand is the BLU Intel.

 

  
   That night, Sniper is trudging around the base in a haze. Normally he would be in his van right now, but he doesn't trust himself to be alone after what happened. He doesn't really know what to do. This should probably be one of the rare occasions where he actually eats with the rest of the RED team, but he also doesn't trust himself around people at the moment. It's an uncomfortable feeling. He passes by RED Spy's door and he feels his stomach lurch. No, no no no. RED Spy is not BLU Spy; at all. He feels his stomach lurch anyway and he has to brace himself against the nearest wall. His hand clenches and he pounds his fist against the wall once. " _Herr_ Sniper?"

   Sniper whips around at the familiar voice, the fist that is pressed against the wall clenches tighter in a white knuckle grip. " _Herr_ Sniper?" Medic tries again, softer this time. "Have you been getting enough sleep? You seem a little off today."

   Sniper wheels around and punches Medic as hard as he can before he even realizes it. "Get away!"

   His hand pounds and he probably broke his hand and he probably broke Medic's nose. " _Mein Gott_ , Sniper! Vhat has gotten into you?!" Medic's voice is a little garbled since the man is clutching at his broken and bleeding nose.

   "Just get the fuck away!!" Sniper shouts. He probably can be heard by the entire base but he doesn't care. He wasn't going to be caught off guard again.

   Medic stands slowly and raises his hands in surrender, slowly walking forward as if to calm a wild animal. " _Herr_ Sniper, I don't know vhat is going on, but you need to calm down."

   Sniper's breath picks up and he feels himself slipping into that horrible lead feeling like before. He can't move but he won't take his eyes off of Medic. He won't be tricked again. Not again. He doesn't realize he's muttering "No, no, no, no," under his breath.

   Suddenly a different face comes into his line of vision. Scout is looking up at him, with far more worry than earlier. "Sniper, Snipes it's Medic!" He's shouting. The boy grips at Sniper's shoulders and practically shakes him as he shouts. "It's not Spy! It's Medic! It's ok!"

   Sniper feels himself sinking to the cold floor. Scout falls easily with him, his hands still clutching Sniper's shoulders. Medic starts to say something, but Scout whips around and gives Medic a warning look. Medic sighs and adjusts his broken glasses. "Later, _Herr_ Scout, _Herr_ Sniper," he grumbles as he leaves, presumably to go and fix his broken nose.

   Scout returns his attention back to Sniper, who is shaking like a leaf. His chin is practically pressed into his chest. Scout leans in to try to look Sniper in the eye. "S'ok, Snipes. He's not here. S'ok."

 

 

 

 

 

Spy: 2

Sniper: 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really quite busy with school so I'm sorry if the updates are few and far between.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry or the delay, but here it is!

   "You wanna talk about it?" Scout asks. Sniper had finally calmed down and picked himself up from the ground, all without saying a single word.

   Even though it's obvious that Sniper wants to be alone, Scout follows anyway, and starts talking about it.

   "I don't get it Snipes, I mean if it freaks you out so much....why where you all-" Scout gestures vaguely and avoids looking at Sniper.

   "Ya know, usually when people walk away from a conversation it usually means it's done, kid," Sniper growls.

   "This aint no normal conversation, Snipes." For a kid who isn't exactly known for his smarts, he's really adamant about it.

   Sniper looks down at Scout over the rim of his sunglasses, his right eyebrow raised slightly. Scout doesn't cow down, but Sniper can tell that he's tense and ready to bolt at the first sign of needing to. "No, I doin't wonna talk about it," Sniper says easily. "It aint gunna happen again. Got nothin' to worry about."

   Scout's lips purse tightly after a second, like he's holding back. Sniper blinks, never thought he'd see the day where Scout would hold his tongue. "But he was forcin' himself on ya!"

   Never mind then. Sniper rolls his eyes and turns away from Scout, figuring he's essentially cut off the conversation, but Scout follows after him. "Not talkin' about it, mate," Sniper grunts.

   Scout follows him all the way out to his van, and when Sniper sees Scout glancing around carefully; he feels a hot frisson of anger bristle up his spine. Scout's checking to make sure that Spy isn't around. Scout _escorted_ him back to his van. "I doin't need your protection!" It comes out with more malice than it should have and Scout jumps, and Sniper is surprised the boy doesn't bugger off right then. "And I doin't want ya fuckin' pity! I can handle that fuckin' French whacka on my own! I doin't need no help from a yobbo yank who happened to come along and see somethin' he aint've!"

   Scout looks hurt, his face all tight and scrunched up in the way he does when someone on the team says something particularly nasty to him. He seems to swallow it down as Sniper finishes yelling at him and he takes a deep breath. "I'm only lookin' out for teammate. 'Cause dats what teammates do. I didn't mean ta make ya mad."

   Sniper lets out a deep sigh and runs a hand underneath his sunglasses so he can rub at his eyes. "Look, mate. I didn't mean ta yell at ya. I'm just fuckin' pissed at the Frenchman, ok?" He adjusts his hat but doesn't look at Scout, too embarrassed at his own outburst to even look at the kid. "I appreciate the concern, no matta how misguided it was."

   Scout doesn't say anything, which is becoming weirder and weirder the more it happens. Sniper glances back at Scout, and the boy is giving him that same look he did earlier that day. Eyes hard that makes Scout looks years older than he really is. He isn't shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he normally does, and it unnerves Sniper a little. The gunman opens his mouth to say something, but suddenly Scout moves and the red blur is hugging him.

   Sniper yelps, actually _yelps_. But as soon as Scout initiates the hug he's off Sniper again. "Good luck, Snipes," he says before bolting off at top speed back towards the base.

   The elder man blinks and blinks again for good measure as he tries to comprehend what the fuck just happened. He takes another deep breath and as he lets it out this time he sags along with it, feeling his energy positively drain from him. It had been a long day, too long of a day if you ask him. He unlocks his van and clambers in, taking off his hat and tossing it to the small fold out table without looking at it. He starts toeing off his boots and nearly jumps through the roof when a voice says, "Well zhat went well."

   Sniper whips his head around so fast he swears he can see sound and BLU Spy is sitting there, a smug smile on his face and Sniper's hat in his hand. The man deposits it on his head and goes back to eating. Eating?! "Wot are you doing?!" Sniper exclaims, backing against the small mini fridge, trying not to trip over his own feet.

   "I zhought he'd never leave," Spy says, delicately placing another fork full of whatever the fuck he's eating into his mouth.

   "Wot in the fresh bloody hell do you think your doin' in 'ere?!" Sniper exclaims, a rage filling him at the sight of his precious hat on that BLU bastard's head.

   Spy looks up at him and takes another graceful bite, an eyebrow lifted as if to say, 'what the fuck does it look like I'm doing?'

   Sniper stomps over and swipes his hat off of Spy's head, and he resists the urge to clutch it close to his chest. "I mean _why_ are you 'ere?"

   Spy rolls his eyes like he's oh so bored and puts his fork down, placing his chin in his hand. "I was bored," he says, like it's the easiest thing in the world to understand.

   He's dreaming, he's got to be dreaming. Something must be terribly wrong with him and he's being operated on by Medic. Sniper must be losing his mind or _something_. "So you thought eatin' in the enemy's _van_ was a good fuckin' idea to relieve your boredom? Are you fuckin' crazy- _No_ don't answer that," the Australian says, shaking his free hand in front of him in a dismissive 'I don't want to know' gesture.

   Spy leans forward with chin still in hand and a wicked smile splits his face, his perfectly straight and impossibly white teeth poke through and honestly it's not fair that he has teeth that white and he smokes like a chimney. "We were interrupted my dear _Monsieur_ Mundy. You were lucky zhat boy came along." Sniper gulps and Spy's smile widens. "Or _were_ you lucky?"

  Sniper growls but Spy is having none of it. He only smiles at Sniper like he knows the secrets of the universe and going by his job title the Australian figures he's not that far off in his assumption. "You're just lucky he got to you before I did," he growls, and Spy outright laughs at him.

   "Don't try to play brave to me, Sniper," he says, then his voice shifts to Sniper's own. " _I know all your tells mate._ "

   Sniper takes a step back. "Get out," he murmurs, stuffing his head into his hat and pulling it down low.

   Spy steps around the small fold out table, encroaching in on Sniper's space, a devious smirk pulling at his lips. When he speaks this time his voice is his own. "You don't zhink I couldn't feel it, _Monsieur_ Mundy? You don't zhink I couldn't feel how hard you were getting for me?" He takes another step and since the van's cabin is so small he's almost on top of Sniper. " _Vous étiez sur le feu, désespérés ou ma touche. Sans vergogne et nécessiteux comme une putain._ "

   "Get out," Sniper grits through his teeth, his head down and his eyes screwed shut.

   "If zhe little brat hadn't stopped me, _pensez-vous que j'aurais pu eu vous venez dans votre pantalon?_ " Spy asks, a gentle gloved hand reaching up and caressing Sniper on the neck.

   A shiver of revulsion runs up and down Sniper's spine, and he finds himself once again unable to move, unable to do a thing. He doesn't know what the hell Spy was saying, but he knows it makes him sick to his stomach. "Stop," he half begs-half growls.

   Spy doesn't. The masked man simply leans to whisper in Sniper's ear. "I'm going to _fuck_ you, _Monsieur_ Mundy." Sniper can hear the malicious intent in the Frenchman's voice when he adds, "And I'm going to laugh as I watch you fall apart beneath me."

   Sniper leans back on one hand as far away from Spy as he can, and as he scrambles, his hand comes in contact with something cold. In a flurry of movement that Sniper himself doesn't even recognize for a second, he whips his arm around and buries a butter knife as hard as he can into Spy's open neck. The end punctures Spy's neck with a sick pop, and blood immediately spurts from the wound. Blood gargles Spy's speech, and his eyes are wide and bloodshot like he can't believe what just happened. Sniper growls as still warm blood sprays against him, some landing in his mouth as he bares his teeth at the other man. His free hand comes up and grips Spy's shoulder as he grinds the knife deeper into the artery. "Let's see if respawn works after hours," He growls and pushes the still profoundly bleeding Spy as far away from him as possible. Spy takes the knife with him and Sniper watches intently for the Frenchman to stop twitching. After a few tense minutes he stops, but not without a garbled oath in French that Sniper can't understand.

   Sniper sags against the wall, supporting himself with one hand while he pants and watches Spy's still body. Could never be too careful. He slides slowly to the floor, never taking his eyes off of Spy. He stares for what feels like hours, and when Spy's body doesn't slowly disintegrate like it usually does when respawn picks him up, Sniper thinks that he's actually done it. He's actually killed the bastard. With a butter knife of all things. His breathing slows and he stares at the still sluggishly bleeding man. The blood doesn't pulse in time with the man's heartbeat anymore, and Sniper figures he's dead. He's really dead. How in the fresh hell is he going to explain this? Without thinking, he runs a hand down his face, smearing the blood already spattered there and adding more from what was on his hand. It's in his mouth too and the idea kind of makes bile violently rise up in his throat. He doesn't know why. He's killed Spy more times than he'd care to count and even had this much of Spy's blood on him before but this time it's different. This time he's actually killed Spy and the idea that they aren't actually super beings who can come back from the dead anytime they're killed actually makes Sniper more physically ill if possible. Spy's blood is in his mouth and he can taste it and it's all he can taste. He tries to swallow down against the contents of his stomach but it's too strong and he turns and loses it on the floor, too weak to move anywhere else. After he throws up everything he can in his stomach he dry heaves and spits up nothing but burning stomach acid that somehow still can't cover the tinge of blood still present. He can't throw up anymore, his core hurts, but his body valiantly tries. It's almost fifteen minutes before he finally stops. His eyes are watering and he resists the urge to rub at them, knowing how much blood is still drying on his hands. He leans back against the nearest wall and covers his eyes with an elbow thrown over them. He tries to calm his breathing, but an all familiar sound of respawn taking someone away only makes it worse. He slowly lets his arm drop and stares miserably as Spy's body slowly disintegrates away, far slower than normal. Sniper turns away before he can see too much, and when Spy is finally gone, leaving Sniper and the bloody mess behind, the Australian lets out a hoarse wry laugh. "Of course it still works," he says to himself, covering his eyes again. He shifts and lets out a shuddering breath. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" He asks in a whisper to no one in particular.

 

   Even after everything. He's hard.

 

 

 

Spy: 3

Sniper: 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I'm really sorry for such a long delay. The end of the semester is coming to a close so the due dates for everything are coming up and I'm also in a play. I don't have much time for anything besides that for the next three weeks but I'm still writing I promise!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual I'm sorry for the wait! Thanks a bunch for you comments and kudos!
> 
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own

 

   He's still hard, and it isn't going away. Why isn't it going away? Sniper pulls his glasses off, setting them down on the floor far more gently than some thought he probably could. He rubs his eyes, the partially dried blood on his hands and face smearing. He can't find it in himself to care about that at the moment. He lets out a long sigh, looking down at the center of his problem with a derisive sneer. He fully plans to stew in his disgust until his erection actually goes away, but the drying blood is pulling uncomfortably at his skin, making it feel too tight. He glances down at his fingers as he flexes them and a fresh wave of nausea hits him when he fully realizes just how _much_ of Spy's blood covers him. It's spattered all across everything. He leans back and a half amused half disgusted snort comes out of him; there's even blood on the ceiling. There's no way it's ever going to come out, and even if it did, he would still smell it, still feel it pulling at his skin, still remember the splatter noise it made as it sprayed everywhere. The sick pop and the surprised strangled gurgle from Spy won't get out of his head, and the death just keeps replaying over and over. Even still, even STILL, he's hard. He glances back down at himself without moving his head and grumbles, "Masochist."

   What he needs to do is get out of here, but he's too exhausted physically and mentally to even stand. He needs a shower, he needs new clothes. A not-so-friendly voice reminds him that his hat probably has blood stains that will never come out of it now and that's the thing that pushes him to stand. He reaches to grab for his sunglasses off the floor and slips them on, not caring about the specks of blood that obscure his vision. He needs to get out of here. He needs a shower, but he needs to get out of here first. He slowly trudges out of the camper, not caring to lock it. He slowly and ever so carefully makes his way towards the RED base. He's not really aware of it, still stuck in this twilight state where he's only half aware of what's going on around him. A stray thought of how the rest of his team is going to react to him gives him pause as he actually reaches the building, but he's gotten this far and as far as he's concerned there's no going back, no going back to that camper. At least his erection has finally died down some.

   He walks past the mess hall that's more of a middle school cafeteria than anything with no more than a glance. There are voices inside but Sniper gives them no attention, just keeps walking towards the showers. A shout of his name and the sound of scrambling comes to his ears, but he doesn't stop. He needs this shower, he needs it, needs the harsh crackling and pulling feeling of the blood to just go away already. "Snipah!"

   Of course out of all the people to see him like this, it has to be Scout. Sniper doesn't stop at the shout of his name a second or third time either, and he only acknowledges the boy because the Bostonian physically turns him around and stops him. "Jesus," Scout breathes, his hand on Sniper's shoulder recoiling at the blood. "Snipes, wh-what happened?"

   "Showah now, talk later." His voice is deep and raw and foreign even to his own ears.

   Scout scrambling out of the mess hall caught attention since he hears a few more oaths in a few more languages at the sight of him. He turns away from Scout, determined to get to the showers as fast as possible. He didn't need any of the obvious worry that was coming from his teammates, especially Scout. He just wants to get clean, or as clean as he can.

   " _Herr_ Sniper!" Medic stomps past Scout and takes Sniper by the shoulders. "Vat is going on here?!"

   Sniper sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose underneath his sunglasses. "The enemy Spy decided it was a good idear to 'visit' me after hours. I took care of the wanka. All I want is a showah."

   Medic gives him a hard look. "You are not injured, _ja_?" he asks.

   Sniper shakes his head without a word and Medic lets him go with a measured gaze. The Australian doesn't acknowledge it, instead returning his focus on getting that shower. He turns to leave and he can feel the stares but he doesn't care. "Snipes," Scout starts weekly, reaching out for the man. Medic catches his shoulder without a word and gives Scout a look. The rest of what the boy was about to say dies in his throat. He stares after Sniper with pursed lips, focusing his gaze on the floor when he can't look at Sniper any longer.

   " ** _Later_** _Herr_ Sniper," Medic says suddenly, and Sniper salutes lazily without looking back before finally disappearing down the hallway to the showers.

   When the marksman is finally out of sight, Scout looks up at Medic. "He ain't ok, is he?"

   Medic sighs and removes his hand from Scout's shoulder, pushing up his glasses absently with his middle finger. "I vill endeavor to find out."

 

   The warm water feels better than he ever thought it would. He hasn't felt this nice in a long time, too long if you ask him. An audible sigh escapes his mouth as the mildly scalding water pours over him. It takes only a few moments for the muscles in his back and shoulders to physically un-tense under the spray.

    The water falls in small pink streams down his body and swirls into the drain, the water getting more and clearer the longer he stands underneath the spray. He reaches to the knob to turn the heat of the water as hot as he can possibly stand. He just wants the feeling of Spy's blood to go away.

   As the air steams up around him, the thought of tomorrow makes Sniper sick to his stomach once again. Spy's revenge will be swift and severe, and with his earlier threat, Sniper feels hopeless. It feels like there is nothing he can do to stop Spy. The French bastard knows how to push every single one of his buttons in the right way. Something is so seriously wrong with him and Spy knows and is taking advantage of him. For some reason Spy's mere presence makes everything in Sniper's being shut down. It's never happened to the Australian before and the thought of having to go through this war worrying when he'll break is making him crazy. He's going to break, he knows he is. Spy is right, it's just a matter of time before he just gives up and let's Spy do whatever he wants to him.

   Would that be the better option? To just give up and get it over with? Would it be over after that?

    
   No. No it wouldn't. Spy would take and take and take and never let him go. He would take from Sniper until there was nothing left but a husk of a man he used to be. Then Spy would throw him away with nothing more than a dark smile, assuring that Sniper thought it was HIS fault.

   _"I'm going to fuck you,_ Monsieur _Mundy, and I'm going to laugh as I watch you fall apart beneath me."_   

   He slams his fist against the shower tiles, the smack resounding throughout the showers. "Fuckin' 'ell," he growls, scrunching his eyes shut.

   It plays over and over in his head, and with it, flashes of Spy doing exactly as he promised; throwing Sniper down and fucking him within an inch of his life. He tries to shake the thoughts out of his head, but now that he's started he can't seem to stop.

   Spy pressing him against the wall of his nest during battle, fucking hard and fast. They wouldn't even take off their clothes; only expose enough to get the job done. The rough friction of the wood and his clothes against his body would drive Sniper crazy, and Spy would hold him down by his wrists, the leather of his gloves creaking with every thrust.

   Another flash; Spy fucking him on his bed in his van. Spy would force Sniper into a position where Sniper would have to face him. Spy would demand that Sniper look him in the eyes as they fuck, and the gunman would look at the man he was allowing to fuck him because for some fucking reason he can't resist him.

   Outside of his head, Sniper has already gripped his erection, letting out a shaky sigh. The rest of him is shaky too;  a mixture of fear and arousal. It feels like his skin is too tight and it only gets worse when he traces his index finger in small gentle circles against his frenulum and his cock twitches in his hand. Spy would tease him like this, caressing him gently and driving him crazy before taking him roughly and absolutely blowing his mind.

   A low moan is building in his throat, and he lets it out; Spy would never let him be quiet, he would want to hear what he was doing to Sniper. The first pump he gives to his shaft makes him shudder and let out what can only be described as a whimper. He keeps his strokes slow and measured as he rests his forehead against the shower tiles. He rocks back and forth against his hand and another shaky moan breaks from his lips when he swipes his thumb feather light across his slit. Even though a practical cascade of water is rushing down his body, he can still feel the slick texture of his pre come for a moment before it gets washed away by the steaming water.

   His fantasy shifts. Instead of Spy fucking him, he imagines Spy is right there with him, kneeling and jerking him off. The only contact between the two of them is Spy's hand on his cock and Sniper rocks harder, hardly moving his hand, because that's something Spy would do. In his mind's eye, Spy is still wearing his mask because _of course he is_ and he's smirking like he's won the fucking lottery while he looks up at Sniper. Even on his knees before Sniper, there is nothing submissive in his pose. When he leans forward to kitten lick at Sniper's head while maintaining eye contact, a breathy moan breaks past Snipers lips and he snaps his hips forward. Spy pulls his head back before Sniper can shove his cock into his mouth and says, _'Tsk, tsk,_ Monsieur _Mundy, you get what I give you.'_

   "Mm'sorry," Sniper mumbles in the real world, slowing his thrusts against his hand until he's barely rabbiting his hips.

   _'Good boy'_ Spy says, leaning forward once again. This time Sniper does not thrust against the small kitten licks, and his reward is Spy taking just the barest hint of the Australian's cock head and softly suckling at it. Sniper moans unabashedly, and he shakes with the effort of not thrusting into Spy's mouth. The Frenchman hums as he takes Sniper deeper, not stopping until his nose presses against dark curls of Sniper's pubic hair. 

   A strangled cry escapes Sniper's mouth as Spy swallows around his cock and he just can't take the teasing anymore. He thrusts and pounds his hand up and down his cock, but in his mind he's sawing his cock in and out of Spy's mouth. The man lets Sniper fuck his mouth with a smirk on his face. Even with his face full of cock there is not a hint of submission shading his features. This is exactly what he wants; he wants to break Sniper apart no matter the means.

   A breathy sob and an oath of Spy's name under his breath is how Sniper comes, and his hips jerk and snap as he continues to pump his hand to get everything he can out of his orgasm.

  The water no longer runs pink and the water rushes the evidence of his self pleasure away. He feels sick to his stomach again as soon as he comes back to himself and the gravity of the situation hits him. He feels even more drained than before but to his horror he feels almost relaxed and that just makes his stomach churn more. He turns off the water with more vindictiveness than he probably needs to before storming over to his clothes. He doesn't even bother attempting to redress in his blood soaked clothes. He grabs his hat and glasses though, not putting them on but clutching them in his hand. He wraps a towel securely around his waist before storming out of the showers, not caring at this point who sees him. He makes it to his assigned room at the base and slams the door behind him, locking it for good measure. He drops his glasses and hat on the floor as he slides down against the door and to the floor, his face in his hands. "Son of a bitch," he says with a shaky breath.

    
   Back in the showers, the sound of a cloak and dagger watch disengages and RED Spy stands there, leaning up against a wall. He reaches into his coat and retrieves a cigarette, lighting it and taking a drag from it. His hand imperceptibly shakes. " _Merde_. What has he done to you?"   


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. Also I'm a little rusty at porn so sorry if it sounds weird in any places.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me forever to write this and I apologize. Between falling out of the fandom a little ,to graduating college, to getting a job and moving into my own apartment I never thought I would be able to get back to this story
> 
> But I did, and I am determined to finish it! Thank all of you for your kudos and your lovely messages, they keep me going and never fail to put a smile on my face.

   He's never been fucked by a man before, hell, never even fantasized about it, but now, somehow, the spigot has been broken open and it seems like it's the only thing he can think about. Even when he's blowing the heads off of BLU Scouts as they zoom by thoughts of sex are swirling through his subconscious. He may have not even dwelled too much on it if it was caused by anyone but Spy. Before the Frenchman had started 'The Game'-when they had actually given what they were doing a name he can't recall-he had never thought about this. What really pisses him off about it is that he always seems to be the one taking it up the arse. During the day, when his mind starts to wander and he catches himself thinking about Spy fucking him, he quickly tries to stave them off or at least try to change them, to a beautiful woman or something, and during the day Sniper tells himself that it's enough. Yet as he sleeps, he dreams of Spy fucking him roughly; biting, scratching, even drawing blood with his knife. More often than not these days he wakes up in a sticky mess and it’s getting to the point where he can't sleep through the night. It's pissing him off.

   He knows that his other teammates know something is wrong with him, but no one dares to ask. They all saw what he looked like the day he came back from killing Spy, and no one-not even Soldier-is talking about it. He sees the looks that his teammates give him, and frankly he's glad no one has the balls to confront him about what happened.

   It doesn't last.

   A polite knock to his van door-newly cleaned or just new Sniper doesn't care to know-makes Sniper reach for his kukri. Spy had already come to his van once, and he wouldn't put it past the fucker to do it again. The stupid wanka never learns. Sniper reaches for the door to his van, his kukri at the ready, and flings it open. He's about ready to jump when he sees it is in fact not Spy, but Medic, from his own team. Flashbacks from before when the game was so new and Spy had disguised himself as Medic come rushing back and he actually almost lunges for the German, but he keeps himself planted where he is. " _Herr_ Sniper," Medic says carefully, looking the Australian up and down with an arched brow.

   "What do ya want?" Sniper hears himself say.

   "It is later, _Herr_ Sniper," Medic says. He approaches Sniper closely, his hands raised but his eyes and tone calm, as if approaching a wounded animal, and for all intents and purposes, Sniper is exactly that. "I have been patient enough, vaiting for you to come to me yourself, but it has been long enough. Come vith me, please."

   Sniper's breath is heavy, but he can hardly hear it over his pounding heart, and he wonders when it started beating so fast. He's still rooted to the floor, but the rational part of his brain that hasn't died off yet due to sleep deprivation screams to him that this can't possibly be Spy. Spy was dead and being regenerated back to his own base when Medic talked to him. It would be impossible for BLU Spy to know that Medic had wanted to examine him.

   Normally Sniper was more than glad to avoid Medic, prone to experiments the German was, but at this point, he was just glad that it wasn't another one of Spy's tricks. So he nods, drops his knife, and follows Medic as the man heads back to the base.

   He doesn't remember the walk there, or the fact that Medic at some point asked him to remove his shirt, but he finds himself sitting on a doctor's bench in his undershirt and Medic pressing a stethoscope to his chest like a child. "Have you been having troubles sleeping _Herr_ Sniper?" He asks casually, pulling the stethoscope away and writing something quickly down on his clipboard.

   "You can say that again," Sniper grumbles under his breath through a deeply heaved sigh.

   "Pardon me?" Medic asks, a brow raised and his tone no nonsense.

   A hot wash of shame Sniper doesn't want to put a name to at the moment flares up in him, so he coughs into his fist, clearing his throat before saying, "Yeah."

   "Are you avare of anyzing zat might be causing zis sleep deprivation?" Medic asks, pen at the ready.

   Sniper grimaces. "Nightmares," he says. He doesn't want to get into the content of the so called 'nightmares' with Medic. He's embarrassed enough as it is that they're affecting his work so much that Medic has demanded for a checkup.

   But of course Medic asks. "And ze content of zese nightmares? Do you remember?"

   So Sniper lies. "Naw mate, I just wake up and have that sinkin' feelin', ya know? In the pit of ya stomach?" He finds it’s a lot easier to talk to Medic when he's lying than it would normally be. Words just sort of flow out of his mouth after every one of Medic's questions. Perhaps he can attribute this to the fact that he hasn't had a decent nights sleep since the whole thing with Spy began, but he's not really in his right mind to think past that. He doesn't even know if Medic believes him, doesn't particularly care. He doesn't even know what he wants out of this check up with Medic.

   Speaking of Medic, the German man gently sets his clipboard and pen down on the nearest side table before crossing a leg ankle over knee and clasping his hands in his lap. "Vell _Herr_ Sniper, I do not zink ve can avoid ze issue any longer. Your nightmares and sleep deprivation are affecting your vork, and ve cannot have zat, zerefore I am recommending you be put on sleep medication."

   Sniper blinks, "Sleep medication?" He asks.

Medic nods, "To help you sleep. I cannot confirm zat it vill help vith ze nightmares, but I believe it vill help you fall asleep and stay asleep. Perhaps once you regain a regular sleeping schedule, the nightmares vill disappear and ve can slowly vean you off of ze medication."

   "You're serious..." Sniper says, furrowing his brows.

   Medic adjusts his glasses. "I am very serious, _Herr_ Sniper."

   Sniper rubs at his forehead and eyes from underneath his glasses, sighing deeply, sagging on the bench. "I dont know if they'll work, doc."

   Medic shrugs. "Ve vill not know until ve try, _Herr_ Sniper." He stands and crosses his arms behind his back, his expression serious. "And if ve do nozing, zen I imagine zat you vill only get vorse, and if you get vorse, I am certain that Mann Corp. vill dispose of you. You vill never be heard from again, _Herr_ Sniper."

   Sniper growls and snatches his shirt up from the table, practically ripping the fabric with how roughly he pulls it on. He avoids Medic's intense gaze by focusing on his buttons. "Well whut the hell do ya want me ta do, doc?!" He grumbles. Medic gives what he can only describe as a long suffering sigh.

   "I vant you to say _yes_ ," He says, pinching the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses.

   Sniper's hands shake as he tries to do up the buttons on his uniform, and Christ alive how can he even hold a gun if he can't button his shirt? He has some of the most nimble and sensitive hands in the whole fucking base and he can’t even get a fucking shirt done up. He lets them fall to the sides, defeated. "Just please help me."

   Medic lets out a breath as if he had been holding it in for Sniper's answer and says, "Zen let's get to it."

 

   They start his medication on Friday night. Medic insists that he dedicate the entire weekend to resting and adjusting his medication. Medic tells him that they will have to do some tests to get the right dosage, but in time it will get better.

   Sniper stares at the bottle on his nightstand, information about how many he should take scribbled on the side by Medic's careful hand. Sniper always thought that doctors were supposed to have messy script, but he figures that considering Medic's personality, the German would never abide with messy penmanship. He reaches for the bottle and shakes out two pills, making a face at how incredibly _normal_  they look. "Well, here goes nothin'," He says, and downs the pills dry. They take a while to swallow down, but he's had to do worse.

   He lays back on his bed and stares at the ceiling, his hands clasped gently on his stomach. Only fifteen minutes later and he can already feel his eyelids start to droop, and he's been tired for so long that he can't fight it anymore. He lets sleep take him.

For the first time in weeks he does not wake up in a cold sweat. He does not wake up in the middle of his dreams in a panic. He dreams, and he can do nothing to stop it.

   All of the thoughts he's been trying to stave off come flooding through his unconscious mind, and to Sniper, the dream feels so unbelievably **_real_**. He's never had a dream like this before.

   When Spy touches him he swears he can feel it on his skin. When he hears Spy whisper into his ear he can feel the small puff of air against it. He feels the air he breaths rush through his lungs in a way that is impossible in the real world, but is so real in his dream. He is so warm, warm in a way he has never noticed that has been lacking from every other dream he has ever had in his life. It's a comfortable warmth that engulfs his entire being as Spy seems to do the same practically cradling him as they move together. He swears he can feel every thread in the fabric of Spy's suit as his fingers run across it. Nothing has ever felt as visceral and real and overwhelming as this.

   And Sniper doesn't even know he's dreamed until he's woken up. He doesn't wake up violently, throwing his covers off in a fit of fear, but neither does he wake up softly. He does not become aware of his surroundings before he opens his eyes. They just suddenly open, and he is dangerously aware of the mess once again covering the inside of his underwear. But what he is more aware of, is the fact that he feels so very very cold.

   He doesn't even remember what really happened in the dream, but he remembers the vivid and visceral assault on his senses that he can't seem to shake. So he lays there, staring at the ceiling of his van but not really looking, for God knows how long, and he wishes for that warmth again, but he has no idea how to get it.  
He is so very cold.

 

   He tells no one of the dreams, not even Medic, who has insisted that he performs a daily check up to be sure that the medication does not have any negative effects. Sniper lies when he says that he doesn't feel any different. Besides, how is supposed to explain the cold to the man? It's best to leave it alone because he really is feeling better. His head is clearer than it has been in weeks, and if he is honest with himself, he can't really remember the dreams, just the sensory details. He would rather have this than the miserable existence he had before, and maybe a regular sleeping schedule will finally give him the edge against Spy that he needs. He can finally win The Game and put it to rest, put it behind him and move on.

   So he doesn't tell Medic about the dreams.

   Monday morning he wakes up cold again, and once again marvels at how he could possibly feel this way in the deserts of New Mexico. Yet he methodically prepares for the day. It's his first day back at work after three nights of uninterrupted sleep, and despite the cold that’s still tingling in his fingers as he buttons his shirt, he feels ready.

   He is sorely mistaken.

   When he sees Spy for the first time that day, trying to sneak past their defenses, a wash of that warmth flashes through him so powerfully that he misses his shot completely, missing Spy by what his standards would call a mile. Spy stops in his tracks and looks up to where the bullet came from and Sniper can see through his scope that the Frenchman is smiling at him. That smile sends another wash of that lost heat through him, and it almost knocks him on his back. That smile means he will be getting a visit from Spy today, and he doesn't know how he can handle it. What in the love of Christ is happening with his mind? Is Spy responsible for the warmth he felt in his dreams?

   He needs to tell Medic about thinks immediately. But Sniper thinks; if he tells Medic, the man will change the medication, and he will lose those powerful and overwhelmingly tangible feelings that those dreams provide. He doesn't want to leave the warmth forever, he doesn't know if he can take that. But if Spy is another source of that warmth, is he willing to take the risk? He doesn't know.

   So he sits and he waits for Spy to come, because it feels like an inevitability now. But he does not see Spy again for the entire work day, and the cold settles deep in his bones.

   Sniper recognizes it for what it is; dread.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this chapter got away from me! It totally went in a different direction than I was intending but I like it!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned! And with me I bring over SEVEN THOUSAND WORDS of mostly smut! Unbeta'd smut, but smut none the less.

  Sniper is on automatic. After work while the others are laughing and discussing the day, Sniper is checking his gun once more before putting the rifle into his locker and carefully putting in the combination. He knows it's not necessary since only RED personnel could even get into the spawn area, but he doesn’t want or like to take chances. He showers the grime of the day off and eats in the mess hall and even jokes with the others, but it’s not a conscious decision of his own and he hardly remembers any of it after it’s happened. He makes it to his van and feels ready to just collapse into his bed and sleep the rest of the night off. He opens the door and stops dead in his tracks when he sees Spy leaning against the fold out table, his hands clasped together and resting in his lap, waiting for Sniper as if he were a parent who caught their child sneaking out late. Spy turns his head and says rather calmly. “Ah, _Monsieur_ Mundy, I’ve been waiting.” 

  Sniper can’t even comprehend what is going on. “Wot?” he says.

  Spy gives a patient smile and gestures to the table. “If you would?”

  Sniper stays where he is. “Wot the hell do ya want?” He asks.

  A long suffering sigh escapes Spy’s mouth. “I simply want to talk to you about somezhing.” He sounds as tired as Sniper feels, and the Australian gives him a look.

  “Wot about?”

  Spy sighs again. “Would you please sit down?” He asks, unclasping his hands so he can pinch the bridge of his nose.

  The please gives Sniper pause, but he slowly inches forward, shutting the door behind him as his body goes into auto-pilot again. He doesn’t let his guard down as he sits down at the table. He’s looking at Spy in profile now, and his eyes keep flicking from his clasped hands and his face, as if he can parse out what the hell the Frenchman is doing. “I’m sittin’,” he says, “Now wot do ya want?”

  Spy looks as if he’s ready to sigh again but all he does is take a deep breath. He lets it out slowly. His feet, which are crossed at the ankles, shift as he speaks. “Every being has zhe desire to kill, _Monsieur_ Mundy,” he says idly. His hands flex where they’re crossed over his lap. He leans forward incrementally, a smirk on his lips so faint it might as well have not been there. He does not turn his head but looks at Sniper out of the corner of his eye. “Tell me, how did you feel when you zhought you killed me for real?”

 God sakes that was the last thing he thought Spy was here to talk about. Why does Spy even care what he felt? The man finally turns his head to look Sniper in the eye and there is no mocking in his eyes. Bloody hell he’s actually curious. Sniper doesn’t like to think about it. It feels like it happened so long ago but in actuality it probably wasn’t more than a week ago. The death replays in his head like a nightmare for the first time since he started taking sleeping pills and he feels bile raise up in his throat. He swallows and opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He closes it, swallows a second time, and tries again. He looks down at his own laced fingers, wringing them together because he can’t actually look Spy in the eye as he says this. “I was afraid,” he admits.

  That seems to catch Spy off guard, because it takes him a moment to respond. “Afraid zat you were going to get caught?”

  Sniper purses his lips and shakes his head. He takes a deep breath. “I was afraid that you were gone for real.”

  And Spy….Spy just laughs. It barks out of him and it takes him a second to realize and cover his mouth as if he's doing something rude, but he keeps on laughing. His eyes shine with mirth as he looks at Sniper and that yanks all the calm out of the Australian that had built over their little impromptu talk. He bolts up and rushes Spy, and the other man doesn’t have time to react before he’s lifted up and slammed against the door of the van so violently that Sniper can hear the Frenchman’s skull crack against it. “Wot tha fuck are ya laughin’ at?!”

  Spy’s smile is still there, and he’s still chuckling despite not being able to breathe very well with Sniper pushing him against the door. “Zhere you are,” he says.

  Sniper blinks. “Wot?”

  “I was wondering where zhat weakness came from,” Spy replies. “Would you miss me if I was gone?” The tone is mocking now, and Spy has gone back to being the asshole that he recognizes, the asshole that he fights practically every day in this God forsaken desert. Sniper growls and slams Spy harder into the door and this is starting to feel awfully similar to last time and Sniper sees it flash behind his eyelids again. He sees Spy’s slowly disintegrating body, flesh giving away to blood and bone. Blood splattered everywhere, taking over all of his senses and it threatens to drown him in a sea of carnage. There’s a small laugh. “You’re getting _soft_.”

  Just like that he’s pulled out of the nightmare, his eyes refocusing on the man in front of him. His anger boils over and he can’t control what comes out of his mouth. “And wot about you?! All this threatenin’ to fuck me and you ain't done nothin’! I thought ya were gonna ‘watch me fall apart’. If ya not all talk then you’ll just fucking _do it already_!”

  Its out of his mouth now, and he can’t take it back. He just needs to get this over with, get Spy out of his head and everything can go back to normal.

  Spy smiles at him, but it’s nothing like any smile Sniper has seen from the Frenchman. There is no mocking in it, and Spy looks genuinely unconcerned with how violently Sniper just asked for it. Even though Sniper has him pinned against the door of his van, Spy looks like he expected this to happen. He probably has now that Sniper thinks about it, but the Aussie just needs to get this out of his fucking system so he can go back to doing his fucking job. "So we gonna do this or not?" Sniper growls, squeezing Spy's shoulder hard enough that he knows it hurts.   

  Spy smiles with his teeth now, and it still weirds out Sniper with how straight and white they are. "Two rules, _Monsieur_ Mundy," Spy says softly, and Sniper just growls because damn it all he's practically thrown himself into a den of dingos and Spy is treating him like he isn't a threat. If that doesn't get Sniper's blood boiling nothing will. 

  "I don't fuckin' care about ya rules, fuckin' wanka," the Aussie growls, baring his anything but perfect teeth centimeters from Spy's lips.

  "All I ask is zat you do not try to take off my mask _favori,_ " Spy shrugs. Only then does his smile turns wicked. "If you do I will zhen I will be forced to kill you for real."

  Sniper actually snarls. How dare this fucking prat think he can order him around! He started this and he could end it at any moment. The snarl does nothing to deter Spy's unconcerned look, and the man only raises his eyebrow as if to say, 'Well?'

  Sniper answers by pulling Spy to him, their lips actually crushing together hard enough for Sniper's teeth to cut the inside of his lip from the force. Spy grunts, screwing his eyes shut and reaching his gloved hands up and pushing Sniper back. Sniper pants and is about to ask what the fuck is going on when Spy wipes his mouth with a frown. "Now, _règle numéro deux_ , is zat we do zis _my_ way."

  Sniper pants half in anger and half in arousal, staring at Spy who is still frowning but less so than before. How dare he, how dare this fucking bugger think he can order Sniper around! He could wring the scrawny French bastard's neck with his bare hands. He shouldn't have done this, shouldn't have initiated this because he knew it wouldn't be quick and easy like he wanted. All he wanted to do was get it out of his system, but if the cost is Spy bossing him around he'd rather die. He opens his mouth to tell Spy exactly what he's thinking, but his brain to mouth filter must be broken because what comes out of his mouth is, "Ok."

  Spy's smile is a mixture of genuine pleasure and surprise, and he steps towards Sniper, slipping off his gloves slowly and setting them deftly onto the table. He reaches up and Sniper half expects the Frenchman to punch him, but the last thing he expects is what Spy does. He cradles Sniper's left cheek and runs a thumb over the scar there. There are thick calluses on Spy's hands that Sniper didn’t anticipate, and the gentle rubbing of Spy's thumb on his face confuses him. It must show on his face because Spy chuckles. "Am I confusing you, _mon petit trésor_?"

  Sniper growls. "Just git on with it."

  Spy smiles again, and when he slots their lips together it's so gentle Sniper has to take a minute to realize it's actually happening. It's more of a meeting of lips than anything else. Spy's lips are so soft and warm and Sniper's heart twinges and he doesn't know why. It makes him angry, so he reaches up to try to push Spy back up against the wall and finally fucking _get_ somewhere, but Spy anticipates it and pulls back as if he hadn't been there at all. The Frenchman clicks his tongue before leaning back in to murmur into Sniper's ear.

  " _My_ way, _Monsieur_ Mundy."

  Sniper snarls but stays still, resisting the urge to screw his eyes shut. He was going to keep his eyes open and face this like a proper fucking man. It doesn't stop him from tensing up, though. Spy’s lips do not return to his, however, they hover just below Sniper’s ear. Spy breathes slowly and doesn't move, as if he's just waiting to strike. “Just do it,” Sniper growls, and Spy lets out a chuckle that puffs against Sniper’s neck. The Australian scowls.

  “Are you afraid?” Spy asks, and he doesn’t sounds as amused as Sniper thought he would.

  “No,” Sniper grits out.

  “Nervous zen?” Spy says, arching a brow even though Sniper can’t see it.

  “Shut up.”

  Spy smiles and leans back. He looks at Sniper for a moment, his eyes flicking about the Australian’s face as if he has all the time in the world. Sniper is still tense, waiting for Spy to do whatever the hell he’s going to do already.Yet Spy simply smiles and reaches up, gently removing Sniper’s glasses from his face. Sniper squints as the world loses its yellow tint and Spy’s smile widens enough to show teeth, as if the man is genuinely amused. “Are you _nearsighted_ , _Monsieur_ Mundy?” He asks, sounding particularly scandalized, and Sniper scowls.

  “No,” he says. Spy chuckles anyway, reaching over to set Sniper’s glasses down on top of his gloves; ever so carefully. “Whut the hell’re ya doin’?” Sniper hears himself ask and Spy chuckles again.

  “If I knew it was zis easy and fun to confuse you, Sniper, I would have done it earlier,” the Frenchman replies, shuffling up close to the other man. They’ve been this close before-fighting in close quarters will do that to two people-but never before has he noticed that he’s actually taller than Spy. The man just exudes so much presence that Sniper never noticed their height difference until now. “Have I lost you, Sniper?” Spy asks, and Sniper flinches, as if caught.

  “Sorry,” he hears himself say. Spy smiles anyway.

  “I guess I shall have to move on before I lose you completely,” he says with a put upon sigh but with a smile still on his lips.

  Sniper opens his mouth to respond but its cut off by a kiss, and it’s a real kiss this time. Spy wastes no time pressing his tongue into Sniper’s open mouth and Sniper feels all the tension leave his body when a flush of that oh-so-familiar heat rushes through him. Spy reaches up to cradle his face and Sniper feels his eyes fluttering closed. His instincts are telling him to push back, to not let this French arsehole control what _he's_ allowed to happen. Spy tastes like those damn berry cigarettes, and Sniper fights the urge to tense up. It’s like he’s fucking trained, reacting to a scent that almost always preludes a fight. Yet Spy reaches down and grips at his cock outlines through his pants and Sniper moans into the mouth that’s on his, bucking against the rhythmic squeezing on his cock.

  Suddenly they part, and Spy pushes Sniper back, and he lands on his bed, swallowing thickly. Spy looks down on him and Sniper can’t help but notice the hunger blazing brightly in the man’s eyes. “Strip _si vou plais_ ,” Spy says, his voice rough and Sniper would laugh at the ‘please’ if he wasn’t trying to desperately rip his clothes off. Spy does the same, but with far more grace, shedding his coat as well as his tie. Sniper is practically naked at this point, his pants kicked off his ankles and rumpled on the floor. He reaches to undo the buttons on his shirt but Spy stops him. “Zats enough,” he says calmly.

  Sniper blinks but lowers his hands, watching as Spy rolls up his shirt sleeves with unhurried motions. Once Spy seems to deem himself ready, he turns his attention fully back to Sniper, who swallows roughly. “Aint you gonna get any more undressed?” It’s a stupid question and he knows it.

  Spy smiles with his teeth. “No need.” The Frenchman then crawls on the bed, backing Sniper up against the wall, one of his knees insinuating itself between Sniper’s legs.

  “Whut about me?” Sniper asks through a shuddering gasp.

  The other man chuckles into Sniper’s ear, the sensation making goosebumps prickle across the right side of the Australian’s body. “I will have ze pleasure of doing zat myself _Monsieur_ Mundy.”

  Sniper swallows as Spy attacks his neck with open mouth kisses. The man lingers for but a moment before trailing his lips down, dragging them feather light against the skin of Sniper’s neck and collarbone, sending another round of shivers rushing up and down his body. In his distraction, he hardly notices Spy beginning to slip the buttons of his shirt open. Sniper screws his eyes shut against the sensation of Spy wetly kissing and touching every inch of skin he reveals.

  Sniper has no idea what to do with his hands, so he fists them into his sheets, turning his head against the wall. Spy continues on, and Sniper’s eyes snap open when Spy sucks delicately on his left nipple, pressing and rolling its counterpart with the rough pads of his fingers. Sniper sucks in a gasp because _holy shit_ . “Whut the-” he stutters, risking a glance down at Spy, who is just smirking with his fucking _nipple_ in his perfect teeth. His cock twitches against the confines of his briefs and he is damn sure that Spy feels it.

  “I had a hunch,” Spy murmurs. He tilts his head in inquiry. “Do you like it?”

  Sniper swallows and turns his head to rest against the wall behind him once again, resolutely _not_ looking at Spy when he nods once, sharply.

  He doesn’t need to see Spy to know that the man is pleased, he can fucking _feel_ Spy smirk against his skin. “ _Parfait,”_ he murmurs, and continues on, taking his time to map every inch of Sniper’s skin as it’s revealed to him. He’s taking his time, and it’s giving Sniper time to think, which is the exact opposite of what he wants. If he has time to think, he has time to overthink, and he doesn’t want to. He’ll have time to think about what the fuck he’s actually doing-sleeping with the enemy-and he’s going to lose his nerve. He knows that telling Spy to hurry up won’t accomplish anything, in fact it would probably make Spy go slower, the bastard. So Sniper does something he knows he’s going to regret later, but now, in the moment he needs something to make sure that he doesn’t think. He moves one of the hands that had been curled in the sheets and cups the back of Spy’s head. Spy has nearly reached the elastic of his briefs but he stops at the hand cradling the back of his head. His grey-blue gaze pierces into Sniper, and the Australian swallows. His pride and dignity are going to feel this one. “Please,” he practically whispers, and the immediate reaction from Spy knows that it was the right word to say. Spy’s eyes turn dark, swallowed up by his pupils, and he wastes no time pulling Sniper’s briefs down just far enough for his erection to spring up.

  The filthy smirk on Spy’s lips as he looks at Sniper’s cock makes it twitch, garnering a soft chuckle. Yet the man doesn’t move, and Sniper has to resist bucking his hips up because the man is _so fucking close_ to his prick he can feel Spy’s warm breath tickling his shaft. Spy looks at him, an unamused yet aroused look on his face. “Ask.” Sniper almost grips Spy’s head as hard as he can, his hand twitching at the audacity of the man. No way in _hell_ is he going to ask the man to suck his cock. He says nothing, giving Spy a hard stare that he hopes conveys that he’s not about to degrade himself in such a manner. Spy meets the stare for a few tense moments, before breaking eye contact and leaning away.

  “Wait-” the word comes out of Sniper’s mouth before he can stop it, and Spy does as he’s asked, but he doesn’t close in on Sniper’s cock again. He raises a brow expectantly.

  “Ask,” is all he says.

  Sniper gulps and looks away, hardly believing that this is really happening. He doesn’t recognize his voice when he speaks. “Would you-” he swallows, “-put my cock in your mouth?” A pointed look from Spy and he adds a quick, “Please?”

  Spy nods slowly, and Sniper barely has enough to take a breath before Spy descends upon him. He’s had this done to him a couple of times in his life-all women-and he forgets each time exactly how _hot_ it feels to have a mouth wrapped around your cock. The Australian screws his eyes shut and he swears. Sudden vibrations against the head of his cock make him buck his hips and swear again. Spy moves with the motion as if he’s expecting it, and Sniper realizes that the vibration is Spy _laughing at him_.

  “You fuckin’,” Sniper starts, but its cut off when Spy takes more of him in his mouth, sucking harshly. The Aussie groans, his hips bucking again, only to be stopped by Spy’s forearm pressing them down.

  Spy pulls off for a moment to look Sniper in the eye. “Not very nice, _Monsieur_ Mundy,” he admonishes, and Sniper is ready to tell the Frenchman exactly what he thinks when Spy leans to rub his tongue against the sensitive underside of his cockhead. Spy looks up at him from under his eyelashes and Sniper could almost call it demure if he didn’t know the man making the look.

 “Fuck,” he breathes, his hips twitching. He fists the sheets at his side and the back of Spy’s head, his fingers twitching as well. Spy lavishes his tongue against the underside of Sniper’s cock, slowly tracing the vein with the merest touch of the tip of his tongue. It almost tickles, and it sends Sniper squirming, earning another sultry laugh from the Frenchman.

  “Such pretty reactions, _mon petit_ Mundy,” He says, licking his thin lips slowly. Sniper gulps. He’s seen this look before. It’s the look Spy gets when he’s enjoying being a pain in his arse. Yet this particular look is different. There is fire smoldering in Spy’s eyes, and Sniper recognizes it as lust. It threatens to burn him up, so he looks away, cursing himself for the weakness. He never had a problem with looking Spy in the eye before, then again Spy had never had his mouth on Sniper’s cock before. There was a first time for everything, he supposes. “ _Excusez-moi_ for a moment.” Spy says, and just like that, he’s gone, pulled away from Sniper’s cock. The Aussie snaps his head around to Spy, and the man is rifling through his coat.

  “Whut the fuckin’-” Sniper starts, but Spy apparently finds what he was looking for in his coat pocket because he pulls it out, and it’s a tin of….Vaseline?

  Spy has the audacity to shake it at Sniper as if the man were a child. “I am one hundred perzent certain you do not want me to go in dry,” he says.

  And damn it all Sniper flushes. He tries to recover with a growl of, “Who says Imma letcha-” but Spy interrupts yet again with a clicking of his tongue, making his way back to Sniper, tin of Vaseline still in hand. “How rude, _Monsieur_ Mundy, going back on your word.”

 Sniper frowns. “I didn’t fuckin’-”

  Spy interrupts _yet again_ and it’s starting to make Sniper _really fucking pissed off._ “ _My way Monsieur_ Mundy,” Spy reminds, reaching for Sniper’s briefs and pulling them completely off before kneeling in between Sniper’s legs.

  Sniper just growls and turns his head away, trying not to shake violently as he lets Spy do what he wants. “Git on with it,” he murmurs, and Spy’s chuckle is suddenly in his ear.

  “As you wish, _cheri,_ ” he replies.

  Sniper hears the tin being opened and he tries not to tense up to what’s coming. He jolts when he feels a well lubricated hand slide down his cock. A moan slips from his mouth without his permission and he looks at Spy. “I thought…”

  Spy smiles with his teeth and inclines his head. “I zhought zis would make it more enjoyable, _cheri_ ,” he says, twisting his fist on the upstroke, making Sniper stutter out a moan. The Australian bucks his hips against the slick tightness of Spy’s hand, the Vaseline making the movement easy. “Zhats it _le beau_ , fuck my fist,” Spy huffs against Sniper’s lips, and it’s only at this moment when Sniper realizes how close to his mouth Spy is.

  They’re kissing again before Sniper can do anything about it and _of fucking course_ Spy is a good kisser. He splits the seam of Sniper’s lips with little effort, plunging his tongue into the other man's mouth. The French bastard’s mouth still tastes like berry cigarettes and Sniper’s cock has the audacity to fucking _jump._ Spy’s free hand reaches to spread his knees further but Sniper is too distracted by the hand squeezing his cock and the tongue in his mouth. Another movement and the thumb of Spy’s free hand is rubbing against his perineum, slick with lubricant. Sniper pulls away from their kiss to gasp. “Wait, I-”

  Spy surprisingly stops. “Are you scared?” He asks, sounding a little bored.

  Sniper growls and almost headbutts the fucking man. “Just fucking gimme a sec to mentally prepare,” he grouses, looking away. “Ain’t like I ever had anything up my arse before.”

  Spy smiles and whispers against the Australian’s ear. “You don’t know what you’re missing, _mon petit cheri_ .” Sniper opens his mouth to protest but Spy cuts him off with a particularly hard squeeze to the base of his cock. “Are you so sure you want time to _think_ , _Monsieur_ Mundy?” He asks, and Spy swallows.

  Fucking hell it’s like Spy read his damn mind. “Just-”

 “‘Git on with it.’ I know, Sniper,” Spy says, starting up the motions on Sniper’s cock and perineum again. “Bare down against it and it won’t hurt as much,” is all he says before his middle finger circles Sniper’s entrance, hardly pressing against it. He’s more getting it wet than anything. Sniper tries his damndest not to clench, but it’s incredibly difficult. The sensation is foreign and unpleasant, but he does as Spy says and bares down, and suddenly Spy’s finger is inside him and the Frenchman is groaning. “You’re so _warm cheri,_ ” he says, making little thrusting motions with his finger, acquainting Sniper with the sensation of being penetrated.

 Sniper squirms. It doesn’t exactly hurt, but it doesn’t feel particularly _good_ either. He keeps trying to relax and bare down on Spy’s finger, but all he succeeds in doing is clenching and unclenching, and it makes Spy moan and thrust his finger a little faster; a little deeper. “H-hey,” Sniper stutters, “take it slow!”

  Spy’s smile is filthy. “Oh I intend to precious _le beau._ ”

  Spy takes his time, thrusting and pressing his finger against the walls of Sniper’s insides, and the unpleasant feeling starts to ebb away. It’s not mind blowing pleasure-not that Sniper expected that-but it’s not as uncomfortable anymore. When Spy finally presses into Sniper up to the second knuckle, Sniper moans lightly. The pressing and rubbing is becoming a little more pleasant, and the fierce jacking of his cock isn’t making it any worse. “Ready for anozer, Sniper?” Spy asks, and the man sounds slightly out of breath, like he’s trying quite desperately to control himself.

  When Sniper looks him in the eye he finds exactly that, a man trying desperately to control his lust. He can see the man’s cock outlining the crotch of his slacks and Sniper gulps and clenches down on Spy’s finger at the idea of that being inside him. The clench makes Spy moan and thrust his finger a little harder. Sniper takes a breath. “Yes,” he whispers, because he doesn’t trust his voice to be any louder.

 Spy moans and pecks at his lips quickly before pulling his finger out. Sniper makes a face at the feeling. It feels….empty? He keeps clenching and Spy groans, coating a second finger in lubrication and pressing them against Sniper’s hole. The Aussie is glad Spy seems to be erring on the side of caution with the lubrication. “Like before _le beau_ , bare down,” Spy instructs, and Sniper tries his best. Two fingers is worlds away from one; Sniper almost immediately clenches hard. It burns despite the copious lubricant, and Sniper honestly can’t imagine Spy’s cock getting inside him now. “ _Bare down_ ,” Spy hisses in his ear, his efforts on Sniper’s cock increasing. The motions don’t eliminate the burn, but it does distract Sniper enough that he can bare down properly. And just as before, the finger slip into him.

  Spy takes almost twice as much time stretching and rubbing against Sniper’s walls with two fingers than he did with one. He spreads his fingers apart in a ‘v’ and Sniper hisses at the burn, but Spy continues to do it. It hurts of course, but Sniper tries to endure it.

  Sniper is about ready to call the whole fucking thing off-his word be damned-when Spy’s fingers crook slightly and brush against something that feels like molten lava is spilling into his veins. The Australian curses and moans, bucking up against Spy, who is smiling and pressing wet, open mouth kisses against his neck. He sounds so damn proud of himself when he hisses, “ _Found it._ ”

  Whatever the hell it is that he fucking found, he better keep finding. Sniper opens his mouth to say so, but Spy _does_ in fact do it again, and a moan punches out of Sniper from his gut. The heat, the heat from his dreams, _this was fucking it._ Sniper moans at the realization and grinds his hips down trying to hit that spot again so the heat will pour through him again. “Three fingers now, _Monsieur_?” Spy asks, teasing the rough gland in between his fingers, making Sniper tremble.

 Sniper nods frantically through a moaned curse and a whine _almost_ escapes his lips when Spy’s fingers pull out of him. More lube is hastily applied and Spy’s fingers return to his hole, but they don’t press in right away, making Sniper bucks his hips down because he is one hundred percent into this now and he just wants the heat back. He doesn’t want to think he just wants to feel good and he doesn’t care where he is or that it’s Spy or anything anymore. He clenches and unclenches with a grunt, trying to somehow get Spy’s fingers back inside him without having to use words.

  Spy curses under his breath directly into Sniper’s ear, the rhythm he has on Sniper’s cock faltering a little as he thrusts his clothed erection against the other man’s hip. Spy mumbles in French against Spy’s neck and Sniper has no idea what he’s saying. ‘ _Votre trou est tellement sale, si avide. Il's appuyant contre mes doigts, en essayant d'aspirer à l'intérieur. Il se sent si bon, pas?”_

Sniper gulps and bucks his hips down again. “ _Please,_ ” he whispers, half out of his mind, and Spy nods frantically into his neck, pressing three of his fingers in rather forcefully. Sniper actually lets out a sigh of relief even though it burns like hell. The painful burn mixes with a pleasureable one when Spy’s fingers brush against his prostate again. Sniper yelps as Spy practically attacks it, no longer gentle but just as deadly as always with his fingers. He stretches them apart only to press them back down on the gland, and Sniper hisses sharply at the rough movements. The press against his prostate and the slick tight motions on his cock are driving him mad. He’s suddenly close, very very close to the edge and he grunts out, a hand reaching out from where they were clenched in blankets. He grips at Spy’s bicep on the arm that's hand is twisting ever so pleasurably around the tip of his cock.

  Suddenly all contact is just gone, the warmth is completely zapped from him and a whine slips out of Sniper’s mouth. His eyes open to ask Spy what the hell he’s doing, when the Frenchman kisses his lips filthy, pressing hard against him. When Spy pulls back a minute or so later-Sniper can’t really tell how long it was with how scrambled his brain is at the moment-Sniper is left breathless, panting against the other man’s lips. “Zhats enough foreplay don’t you think _le beau?”_ Spy asks softly, lingering in Sniper’s space.

  The words actually get a smirk out of the Australian. “‘Bout fucking time,” he chuckles, and Spy kisses him quickly on the lips before pulling away to gather up more Vaseline. He unbuttons his slacks and and pulls out his prick with a shaky sigh. He strokes it twice and Sniper is so enthralled with watching him that he forgets that he can touch his own cock. His hands were clenched so hard against his sheets that he just...forgot. He unclenches a hand and slowly reaches for his own cock, watching Spy rather mechanically slather his cock in Vaseline.

  “Hands off,” Spy barks without looking at him and Sniper’s hand actually freezes. He doesn't take the time to think about that fact and just watches Spy turn towards him. The Frenchman’s cock is jutting out of his slacks, and his usually perfectly pressed shirt is half untucked. It's the most disheveled he's ever seen Spy, even in death he's been more put together, and Sniper's dick twitches. Spy catches the movement and he smiles. He doesn't ask ‘like what you see?’ like Sniper expects him to, just lithely crawls onto the bed and in between Sniper's legs. “Are you ready?”

  Sniper's voice is suddenly stuck and he just nods, looking away. They're both still partially clothed, and the brush of fabric against his bare thighs send him trembling. He nods and swallows deeply. “Y-yes,” he whispers, cursing himself for the stutter.

  Spy’s voice matches his own. “Spread your legs a little wider for me, _le beau_ ,” he says, his ungloved hands sliding down Sniper's legs ever so slowly, applying just the slightest pressure against the skin. Sniper goes with the movement, spreading his legs and exposing himself more than ever before. He’s starting to think again and his mind is racing a thousand miles a minute. Spy must be able to see it because he leans in close, his lips just barely brushing against Sniper’s. “Shhh,” he hushes gently before slotting their lips together.

  They kiss languidly for a long moment, none of the heat and desire lost in their slow movements. Sniper’s eyes slip shut and he lets out a sigh. Spy pulls back and whispers against his lips. “Bare down for me _cheri_...it will hurt a little but it will be worth it.”

 Sniper gulps and nods, once again not trusting his voice. He tries not to jolt when he feels a touch to his hole, but it’s just Spy’s fingers, rubbing and pressing as if he’s testing whether or not Sniper is still stretched out enough to do this. The man must deem him ready because his fingers pull away and he shifts closer, his hands maneuvering Sniper’s legs because in all honesty the Australian has no idea what he’s doing. He closes his eyes and turns his head away because he doesn’t want to watch, doesn't want to see the reality of what happens and be able to overthink it.

  Spy keeps one of Sniper’s knees in the crook of his elbow. With his free hand he grips the base of his cock to steady himself and Sniper finds himself inhaling with Spy at the same time. A blunt pressure against his hole makes it rush out of him again, and his hole twitches violently. Spy hushes him again and rubs a thumb gently against the leg slotted in his elbow.

  Sniper doesn’t like this, doesn’t like how gentle and considerate Spy is being. This isn’t what he expected when he decided to do this. He thought it would be fast and rough and he could get it out of his system and then they would be done with it and go back to killing each other on a daily basis. But this? The gentle touches and reassurances? The patience? He didn’t expect this at all, and if he’s honest with himself he’s absolutely terrified about what’s going on. He keeps the thoughts to himself, because Spy is still Spy, and he has no idea what the man would do with that sort of information at his disposal. So he stays quiet and tries to bare down on Spy, and he tries to ignore the frantic beating of his heart.

  Spy finally presses forward and he was right about the burn. Sniper hisses and tries his very best not to clench, but push against, as if he were trying to expel Spy out instead of welcome him in. His breath hitches at the burn and a single tear slips from his eye and he turns his head, hoping Spy won’t see it. He’s going soft, the pain making the previous pleasure from before nearly vanish, and he grits his teeth, wiggling to try to alleviate at least some of the pain. Spy’s voice startles him and he doesn’t realize how quiet they’ve been up to this moment. “Touch yourself,” is what Spy says, looking down at him. Out of the corner of his eye Sniper swears he sees something apologetic in Spy’s eyes, but when he turns his head to fully look, it’s gone.

  The order-because from Spy’s mouth it isn’t anything less than that-finally registers and Sniper reaches for his cock, uncertainty tainting his actions. He remembers when Spy barked at him the last time he tried, but when his fist closes around his cock in a gentle grip, Spy says nothing. Sniper slides his hand up his cock once, twisting his palm at the head, and moans, his eyes fluttering shut. He doesn’t even realize that Spy had stopped moving until he starts again and Sniper has to commend the man for his self control. If he were in Spy’s position he doesn’t know if he would be able to be as calm as Spy is. The unpleasant burn is back, but he strokes his cock in long pulls, still slightly slick from the Vaseline, and it distracts him enough to let Spy continue.

  It seems like an eternity before the head of Spy’s cock slips inside of him, but it surprises Sniper once it does. The ridges under the head catch at his hole and he clenches, making both of them moan in unison. The burn is still present, but it’s beginning to dull, and Sniper just wants to _get on with it already._ So in an act of bravery, Sniper thrusts himself downward, against Spy’s cock. It must surprise him, because he gasps and Sniper tries to ignore the pride welling up in his chest at catching Spy off guard. “Very well,” the Frenchman says, sounding out of breath. “If zhat is how you want it.”

  Sniper groans as Spy grips his hips and thrusts, half of his length pushing inside of him at once. Sniper swears and twitches around Spy’s cock, rubbing his own cock harder just to the burn isn’t so bad. Spy’s hips twitch, and he starts thrusting in small motions, his cock pushing in slightly farther than before on every push. Sniper is panting harshly by the time he feels Spy’s slacks brush against the backs of his thighs. It’s completely in, and Sniper can feel Spy twitching with the urge to move. “ _Vous êtes tellement chaleureux,_ ” Spy utters under his breath and Sniper just knows he said something filthy.

  “You can move,” Sniper whispers suddenly, and Spy’s eyes snap to his and the look makes Sniper swallow roughly. There is almost no color to Spy’s eyes and they burn with so much want that it makes Sniper’s gut and hole clench and his cock twitch.

  Spy leans in close and growls low in Sniper’s ear. “As you wish.” Sniper thinks he hears the smirk in the other man’s voice.

  Suddenly he’s moving, thrusting harder than before, and Sniper doubles the efforts on his cock, moaning lightly when Spy practically folds him in half to kiss and suck at his jaw underneath his ear. Sniper quite desperately wants Spy to hit the spot he did when he was fingering him, and he squirms and bucks, trying to find it as Spy thrusts. Spy hitches his hips and shifts up further on his knees. “Looking for _zhis?_ ” He asks in a hiss, and Sniper can actually feel the smirk against his skin. He doesn’t have time to think on it because Spy’s cock suddenly drags against his prostate and he actually yelps. It earns a filthy laugh in his ear.

  “Sh-shut u-up!” Sniper is shaking, still pumping his cock as Spy’s thrusts drag over his prostate with every thrust. Leave it to Spy to memorize where his pleasure spot is. Sniper lets out a shaky moan as Spy’s cock presses particularly roughly on his prostate as he pulls back.

  And just like that Spy’s cock is out of him. A whine leaves Sniper’s mouth and he doesn’t even hear it because he was _getting close_ and then Spy was just _gone._ He glares at the offender in question and the man is looking down at his hole, licking his lips and it sends a frisson of arousal up and down Sniper’s spine. “You’re hole is _twitching_ ,” Spy says, and he punctuates the statement by lining his cock up against Sniper’s entrance and thrusting against it lightly. It’s not enough to enter him, but just enough to tease and Sniper thrusts his hips downward, a small keen escaping his throat.

  “Just...please,” he pants, his hand flying over his cock, his brain scrambled on pleasure and Spy obliges his jumbled request, thrusting back into him all the way to the root with one long thrust. It draws a long moan from Sniper’s throat, and it makes the man’s eyes flutter shut at the feeling.

  Spy no longer thrusts quickly, but long languid strokes that are no less powerful than his quick ones. Sniper is half out of his mind by now, his orgasm building dangerously fast. Pre come drips from his slit, sliding down his cock and mixing with the Vaseline, keeping his cock slick. As his orgasm approaches, moans slip out of his mouth without registration. His skin feels pulled tight over his body and it feels like his blood is made out of fire. Spy’s thrusts are starting to falter, not the smooth calculated thrusts of before and the idea that Spy is just as affected as he is make’s Sniper’s cock twitch dangerously. Spy leans forward into his space and they’re lips brush. They’re not really kissing because they’re panting too hard, but the air heats in between them as they pant, little moans and groans spilling in between them. Sniper doesn’t know who’s making what sound his head is so scrambled, and he finds that he doesn’t care. He just wants to keep feeling good, that’s all he wants. He distantly hears someone swear, and Spy stiffens. Sniper moans as he feels the length inside him pulse, and he swears he can feel Spy’s release spread into him, and the thought makes him so embarrassingly close that he whimpers, clamping his eyes shut harder than before.

  Spy pulls out and Sniper keens at the loss, babbling without making sense, begging Spy to please just let him come, and Spy moves without a word and bats away the hand that’s harshly gripping Sniper’s cock. Sniper opens his mouth and he’s actually close to sobbing when Spy suddenly engulfs his cock with his mouth.

  And just like that he’s coming. The warm, wet, and tight feeling of Spy’s throat sends him right over the edge, his orgasm tearing through him. He pulses powerfully into Spy’s mouth, and a distant thought passes through his mind that Spy is actually _swallowing_ and it just makes him quake all the more.

  It feels like an eternity until his orgasm is done and Spy pulls away, sucking lightly so he doesn’t waste a single drop of come. Sniper gives one last full body shudder before sagging against the wall, all of his energy completely gone. The air around him and Spy is still heated, but he can feel sweat cooling on his skin. His eyes droop and he is honestly practically asleep when he feels something trickle out of his ass. He shudders. “We should clean up…” he mumbles under his breath, but Spy shushes him lightly.

  “Later _le beau_ ,” he says, and Sniper barely catches the kiss to his temple and the deep sigh before he’s slipped into unconsciousness.

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Spy: 4

  
Sniper: 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life kicked my ass there for a while, and honestly it's still kind of kicking my ass, but I'm here for the long haul.
> 
> I haven't written smut in a while so I might be a bit rusty and the pacing may be a bit weird in places. I tried though and that's all that matters, right?
> 
>  
> 
> Also fuck accents....just fuck 'em.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so apparently, I forgot that I had already written a Chapter 11????? I didn't see the ending of chapter 11 in any of my files, so I thought I was still ON Chapter 11 so I 'rewrote' it?? I'm kind of glad that I did because this ending is much better than the one that I had before. So sorry again if things are the same until the end, but it goes a much better direction than before.

  Sniper awakes to his alarm clock with a wicked jolt, bolting up to a sitting position with harsh pants streaming from his lips. He’s alone and naked except for his briefs and he honestly can’t remember how he got here. The previous night comes rushing back with unwelcome clarity and Sniper groans, rubbing at his temples lightly.

  He had sex with Spy, there was no dancing around it. He had willfully and quite enthusiastically had had sex with the enemy. An enemy who had thought to clean him up and practically tuck him in before sneaking out apparently. Heaven knows what he could have taken while Sniper was out. Hell he could have even left something, some insidious spying device that Sniper wouldn’t be able to find and would somehow give BLU team all of RED teams secrets. Sniper shakes his head clear; no way in hell would Spy do that. That wasn’t his style.

  And when exactly did Sniper learn what Spy’s style was? The Australian rubs at his eyes, cursing and grumbling underneath his breath about stupid Frenchmans, trying to rile up the anger that usually accompanied thoughts about Spy, but he found his anger woefully absent.

  It was too damn early in the morning for this. A cup or three of coffee and he would be right as rain. So Sniper pulls himself out of bed, resolutely ignoring the fact that he’s wearing a different pair of briefs than he was last night, and sets about making coffee. When he approaches his table and notices a piece of scratch paper that wasn’t there before, he almost immediately crumples it up and throws it as far away from him as he can. Instead, he’s squints at the small fancy script with contempt.

   _Sniper,_

_I had a lovely time. We really should do it again sometime._

_-S_

 

“I hate you,” Sniper grumbles without much heat and _does_ in fact crumple the note before throwing it in any direction that isn’t his own. Had a lovely time his ass. Speaking of asses-“Son of a fucking-!!” Sniper swears when he sits down and a frisson of pain shoots up his spine, almost making him drop his coffee.

  Oh crouching in his nest for ten hours is just going to _fly_ by, he can already tell.

  He curses Spy again for good measure when he sees the man left a dark hickey just above where the collar of Sniper’s shirt wouldn’t cover it. Clever asshole.

 

  Later when he’s standing next to Heavy-who’s getting blasted by Medic’s Uber Charge-he can actually feel some of the sharp pain from his back and arse dissipate, and it makes him flush like an idiot. He was going to fucking kill Spy. “Good luck today, Sniper,” the Spy on his own team tells him, and it catches Sniper off guard. Usually his own team’s Spy rarely talks to him, and the encouragement comes off a little weird; ok a lot weird.

  “Yeh, you too,” he mumbles, fiddling with the bolt on his rifle so he doesn’t have to look RED Spy in the eye. And when exactly did the Spy on his own team become RED Spy instead of just Spy?

   _When you slept with the other one apparently_ , his brain helpfully supplies. The Australian doesn’t have much time to examine the thought before the match starts and he’s automatically making his way towards his usual cover, his rifle slung over his back, shooting idly with his SMG because the BLU Scout is already zooming around. Sniper finds it hard to believe that they found someone more energetic than RED Scout, but apparently they did.

  Once Sniper finally makes it to his cover-this one is new because he likes to move it around as to keep it fresh, plus this one has a nice vantage point-he settles in for a long day, trying his best to ignore the throb of his ass. He wishes he had pain pills up in this cover, but unfortunately he hasn’t had the thought to ask Medic for any. And with the whole not sleeping thing, he knows he isn’t going to unless he wants to be subjected to the Doctor’s endless and frankly way too invested line of questioning.

  With that line of thinking milling about in his brain, Sniper realizes that last night was the first time in too long where he had slept through the night without help of drugs. He snorts as he easily shoots a BLU Pyro that's trying to sneak up on Engineer. He wonders how Spy would feel if he mentioned that his dick worked better than the drugs. He nails BLU Scout right between the eyes with a frown; probably shouldn’t mention to Spy that he needed drugs for sleeping.

  Best not to let the enemy know too much.

 

  It turns out that even three cups of coffee aren’t enough. Even with gunshots echoing around him, the consistent pain in his back, and the fact that the night before was probably the first time he’d had a deep dreamless sleep in God knows how long, Sniper finds himself nodding off against his rifle. He scowls when he thinks how Spy would be damn proud of that fact. Speaking of the Frenchman, it’s one of those days where Sniper has hardly seen him. It only means one thing: Spy is up to something. And if Spy is up to something, Sniper can practically guarantee that he’ll be involved somehow. If Spy doesn’t already know where Sniper’s new cover is, the gunman would rather keep it that way; plus falling asleep in the middle of a literal firefight is hardly what you would call professional. So Sniper stands, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and trying desperately to ignore the pain in his ass in favor of stretching his legs and keeping himself alert. Well, alert as someone who can apparently fall asleep in the middle of an all-out war can.

  He should have had more coffee.

 

  The coffee and adrenaline of actually being outside in the firefight makes Sniper marginally more awake than he was before. It isn’t a large improvement, but frankly it’s something and Sniper will take it. Today feels like one of those back and forth days where there seems to be no clear sign of what team is going to get the payload. Some days it’s quite easy to tell, and today is definitely not one of them. Sniper scowls at the thought as he crouches behind some planks of wood that offer a modest cover and picking off the BLU Medic just to really get them scrambling. Days like these seem to last forever, and sometimes, the day ends with no clear winner. It’s days like these that really make Sniper hate this job, but who the hell else was going to do it? And would his bosses even let him leave after everything was said and done? Sniper highly doubts it.

  Scout always talks about missing his mother and finally going home after all of this fighting is over, and Sniper’s never has the heart to tell him that in wars like this, it’s rare for the fighting to stop and for anyone to go home; at the very least go home unchanged. But Scout is a kid no matter how much he tries to talk himself big, so Sniper bites his tongue.

  Even though he’s sore and feels half dead on his feet, Sniper still has probably the best hearing on the team and whirls around just in time to fire a couple of SMG rounds into the BLU Medic who is creeping about behind him. “Creepy bugger” he mumbles, reloading his SMG with practiced movements.

  Gotta keep moving, that’s the only thing that’s going to keep him on his feet. So Sniper stands, well hunches really because this cover ain’t tall enough to accommodate him, and tries to formulate a plan that will keep him awake and moving as well as be helpful to the team. He crosses a few planks, maybe the water tower? That’s high enough that the only other person he’d really have to worry about would be the enemy Sniper since his would be the only gun that could reach him up there. Well that and Spy, but that’s not something he wants to think about right now. Well, good enough plan for now, considering how back and forth the say is turning out to be. He moves towards the water tower with the ease that only someone who spends an extended amount of time in the area would be able to do, keeping his eyes and ears out for any suspicious sounds.

   There’s only one bridge of planks between him and the water tower now, and as he moves towards it, he curses his exhaustion. It’s made him sloppy. He hears the noise before he sees it, the sound of energy distortion that comes with a Medic Ubercharging a Heavy. He knows it’s useless to pray for it to be the Medic and Heavy from his team, because he ain’t that lucky, mate. He glances over his shoulder and watches them as they block off his only exit. Just as he figured, it’s the BLU Medic and Heavy, and the German man is cackling. Probably planning his revenge for Sniper shooting him earlier, Creepy bugger. He knows that he can’t take out both of them at the same time, it would be nearly impossible even if he wasn’t exhausted and standing on his feet only by the grace of his own willpower. He only has enough time to take a shot at one of them, and he knows that it has to be Medic. Not only will it scramble their team again, which could give an advantage even if he’s taken out by the Heavy, but he can’t resist the idea of taking Medic out before he gets the chance to even witness his so called, ‘revenge’. So Sniper whips around and shoots, his instincts taking over and guiding the shot. The Australian can’t help but watch with sick satisfaction as BLU Medic watches the SMG rounds go past Heavy and into his own chest. As Medic falls off the bridge with a furious look in his eyes, the Ubercharge deactivates, and the Heavy is no longer bathed in that eerie blue glow. Sniper know’s he’s done for for today, since he has no idea if he’ll even have the energy to move after being respawned. That’s something they don’t tell you when you first join, how much energy being resurrected from the dead actually takes out of you. Heavy growls and lifts his huge minigun-and ain’t that an oxymoron?-and aims it at Sniper. The Australian knows he can’t compete with it and just smirks at the big man. “C’mon Beasty,” he murmurs.

  Before the hail of minigun bullets pierce his frame and make him look more like Swiss cheese than a man, a single gunshot echoes from behind Sniper. He’s heard that gunshot enough to know what that means. He doesn’t even care that he takes his eyes off Heavy to see.

 

_ What _ he sees when he turns might as well have been straight out of a movie. It feels like everything's in slow motion despite the fact that he knows that that can’t possibly be true.  _ What he’s seeing with his own eyes can’t possibly be true _ . A shock wave seems to radiate out from the muzzle flash, and Sniper watches as the air distorts around it and begins to fall away. It’s like watching someone strip multiple layers of paint away simultaneously to reveal what exists underneath, the truth of what’s underneath.

  Sniper suddenly feels like he can’t breath. Something in his mind told him that the sound he heard after the gunshot was a Spy’s cloak disengaging, but never in his wildest dreams did he expect for the color of the suit underneath all of distortion to be...to be… “Spy…” he breathes, not even registering that it comes out of his mouth.

  Everything catches up to him at once. The BLU Heavy falls off the bridge to the ground below with a thundering crash, the bullet wound fitting squarely between his eyes. There’s more firefight and shouting around him, people scrambling around, but it feels like it’s just him and Spy. Before Sniper can even open his mouth again to ask what the hell is happening, Spy is reaching down for his watch, activating his cloaking. Sniper watches the entire process in reverse, the layers of paint warping and assembling around Spy until nothing is left but the anguished look in his eyes that Sniper sees for only a moment before the cloaking is complete and Spy is gone from his sight once again.

  “Snipes!” Scout’s voice breaks through the din of battle around him, and Sniper looks up rather helplessly, still at a loss at what just happened. Spy just saved you. _Spy just saved you._ ** _Spy just saved_** **_you_** ** _._** “The fuck jus’ happened?” The boy asks, grabbing Sniper’s arm and trying to lift the older man up. It’s difficult with how limp and out of it Sniper is.

 

  Before Sniper can even formulate in his head what just happened enough to answer the boy’s question, An alarm sounds, one that Sniper has never heard before. It blares over even the cacophony of noise that spirals around them, and The Announcer's voice rings with it. “All teams return to base. Repeat: All teams return to base! Abandon the payload and return to base!”

  A panicked look crosses Scout’s face as he tries to drag Sniper away to the nearest spawn point. The boy has never liked The Announcer. “What in the fucking fuck is going on?! ”

  Sniper swallows once or twice before the answer finally slips out of his mouth. “The war just changed, kid.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Gestures vaguely at chapter*
> 
> Hi I did a thing

   They’re in lockdown, gathered inside the base, all looking at one another with confusion. Murmurs rise and fall throughout the team, all except Sniper and Scout. Both are silent. With a quick glance over at the kid, Sniper sees that the boy is thinking, which lends to his sudden silence.

   He on the other hand, just wants to go to sleep. His brain can’t possibility comprehend what happened at this point, and frankly he doesn’t want to. Whatever the hell has happened, it’s going to change everything. Sniper glances at Scout, who is chewing at his lip absently, peeling the dead skin away. He and Sniper were the only ones on their team who saw what happened as far as he knows. As for interpreting it? Sniper would have better luck trying to shoot a moving target with a slingshot, facing the wrong way and with his eyes closed.

   He lets out a sigh that’s too loud, and it catches RED Spy’s attention, but Sniper is so exhausted he doesn’t care. They make eye contact and maintain it, and in his absent staring, Sniper sees the differences in the two Spy’s looks. RED Spy’s nose, for instance, has been broken on more than one occasion. Hell, Sniper has seen it happen with his own eyes once. RED Spy’s eyes are a dull slate color whereas BLU Spy’s fleck with brighter blues. Sniper wonders if RED Spy’s teeth are as creepily straight as BLU Spy’s. RED Spy is probably taller, if Sniper remembers correctly and that’s about where the differences end. Without the masks and suits, would they even look like the same person? Would they still look almost identical to the untrained eye? How did they find two men who look so incredibly similar for the same position on the same battlefield? As far as he knows he doesn’t look a damn thing like the BLU Sniper. Maybe it is a Spy thing? “Sniper!” RED Spy says sharply. He’s probably said it more than once and it’s only now gotten Sniper’s attention. It seems to have gotten the attention of the rest of the team as well, since a hush falls over everyone. RED Spy is glaring at him, and Sniper notices that the shape of his eyebrows are also different. Not by much, but it’s enough. The whole idea of looking similar _must_  be a Spy thing.

   “Yeh?” He finally responds, and he can hear the exhaustion rich in his voice, and he doesn’t even bother to hide it.

   “Do you have any idea what happened?”

   Of course he knows what happened, as to why? He’ll probably be forever in the dark. BLU Spy isn’t really one to share his motives for the things he does, especially to him.

   Scout finally finds his voice again, and it has to be at the most inopportune moment with the most inopportune information. “I think BLU Spy betrayed his team.” He says, as if he’s realizing it while he’s saying it.

   If Sniper thought the room was hushed before, it doesn’t compare to the pin drop silence that descends when Scout drops that bomb.

   “And vat makes you zink zat, _Herr_ Scout?” Medic asks, pushing his glasses up before crossing his arms over his chest. Heavy adopts a similar stance next to him.

   Scout risks a glance at Sniper and the Australian really wishes he hadn’t, because RED Spy catches the look, and his eyes narrow along with his jaw clenching. “ _Oui_ ,” he says slowly, keeping his eyes trained on Sniper as if his stare could see right through the man. “What makes him zhink zat, _Sniper_?”

   The man in question just barely has it in him not to roll his eyes. Sniper stands up as straight as his exhausted body allows, crossing his arms over his chest just so they don’t feel so heavy dangling at his sides. He knows it gives him an air of inappropriate nonchalance or even defensive defiance, but at this point he really couldn’t care less. “I saw BLU Spy shoot at BLU Heavy,” he replies, being as specific yet as simple as possible so that no one on his team could possibly misconstrue his meaning. Of course though, someone seems to find a way how.

   Engineer scratches at his head underneath his helmet, his lips pulled in a way that Sniper knows means he’s thinking. “Are you _sure_ it was BLU Spy?” He hesitates to ask, and Sniper doesn’t even have the energy to get offended on his own behalf.

   “It was BLU Spy,” Scout assures quickly before Sniper even gets a chance to speak up. “I saw it.”

   Medic seems more intrigued than confused as the others do, and he rubs at his chin with a gloved hand and starts pacing. “Vell, it seems as zhough ve have come to zhe conclusion as to _vat_ vas seen, but are voefully lost as to zhe _vhy_.”

   Heavy just grunts. “Leetle man go insane,” He shrugs. “Simple as dat.”

   Medic flips around in an about face and looks at the Russian, a smile creeping on the edges of his mouth. “But _is it_? Could it possibly be as simple as a man going insane out in zhe desert?”

   “If those limp noodle bastards want to blow each other up instead of us, I say let ‘em.” Soldier finally speaks up, then a manic grin splits his lips. “Might make it more fun to see who can kill who first. Whom?” He looks at Pyro, who just mumbles something unintelligible while nodding.

   “It could be a trick,” Spy offers, sucking on a cigarette. His eyes are far away from the barricaded base. Sniper’s nose wrinkles for just a second at the wrong smell before schooling his features.

   That makes the smile on Soldier's face fall. “If those BLU shit eaters think they can-” He starts to say, rolling up his sleeves like he’s prepared to break through the barricade and go fight the entire BLU team with his bare hands. He gets cut off with a hand on his shoulder from Engineer, who’s gives him a look. Thankfully it calms down Soldier enough to stop.

   Sniper’s attention span is starting to wane, and the inner mantra in his head of, _‘tired, tired, tired’_ is starting to get louder and louder. Bloody fuck he just wants to go to sleep. It doesn’t help that Scout keeps sneaking him looks and thinking that Sniper can’t see them. He glances at the kid out of the corner of his eye, and Scout jolts as he’s caught looking again. “If ya got somethin’ to say kid, say it.” Sniper grumbles, resting more of his weight against the wall behind him. He hopes the impromptu meeting ends soon. It doesn’t even matter. The boss will figure out what's going on and give them orders and they’ll follow them. All of this conspiracy about what’s happened isn’t even worth the breath.

   “You _really_ don’ know why BLU Spy did dis?” He asks after a moment of hesitation. Thankfully he has the presence of mind to say it under his breath as to not to draw attention to the both of them.

   Sniper sneers. “Not you too!” he murmurs back furiously.

   Scout eyes widen in expectation while he shrugs. “I dunno, man! I mean you’re da one he’s been all creepy towards so I figured-”

   “Stop yer figurin’ and hush,” Sniper says, pushing a hand up under his glasses so he can rub at his eyes. “Whatever’s goin’ on with the slimy bugger ain’t none of our business.” He knows that the words coming out of his mouth are a lie. He’s become _way_ too entangled in Spy’s business and now it’s affected this war, hell his entire world. He doesn’t need everyone else to know.

    _Christ._ He chews on his lip with vigor. Now after everything that’s happened with Spy apparently going off the deep end, the rest of the team absolutely can’t figure out that he’s had sex with the man. It would give cause to the idea that he’s betraying his own team, and would definitely earn a few well placed bullets to his own person, which he is not too keen on letting happen.

   “So what, we just carry on like normal?” Scout asks, and Sniper can hear the incredulous tone even without looking at the kid.

   He sighs and plops a hand on Scout’s shoulder. “That’s all we can do, kid.”

   Scout makes another face but doesn’t argue, although Sniper can tell that he wants to. The Australian has a moment where he wonders when in the hell he became the kid’s dad, but that thought process gets cut short when the conversation the rest of the team is having comes to a head.

   “I zhink zat zhe only course of action at zhis point it to wait for instructions from zhe higher ups,” Medic states matter-of-factly, adjusting his glasses to the proper position on his nose.

   “So ve do nozhing?” Heavy asks, clearly not enthused at the idea.

   “I guess this’ll give us some time to at least strategize before we’re back out in the field.” Engineer says, always the one to find the bright side of things.

   “So we done here?” Sniper asks, trying to ignore the effort it takes to push himself off the wall. “‘Cause I could sure as shit use a fuckin’ nap.”

   Engineer makes a face. “Sorry partner, we’re locked down tighter than Fort Knox until we get commands from higher up.”

   Sniper’s face falls. “Yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” he deadpans.

   Engineer’s face pulls tightly into an apologetic grimace. He opens his mouth to speak but Spy unfortunately beats him to it. “You honestly zhink zat we would just let you waltz out of here? Something serious has happened, Sniper. Serious enough to warrant a complete lockdown.” He stalks closer to Sniper, and the Australian doesn’t like that one bit. “I don’t know about you, gunman, but I am taking zhis seriously!”

   Sniper just scoffs and blows the wrong smelling cigarette smoke back into the man’s face. “There ain’t no worth in worryin’ ‘bout somethin’ you have no control over. I ain’t gonna dwell on this. I’m just gonna wait fer orders and I can do that just fine from my _fuckin’ van_!”

   Spy looks just about ready to rip his fucking head off, but Engineer comes in between them, a worried look on his face and hands held out in surrender. “Look fellas, I know this is a stressful time, but we can’t start fightin’ each other. You’re both right. This is serious, but we can’t do anything about it right now. I think we all just need to calm down.”

   Sniper flashes a smile, crooked teeth and all. “I’m as calm as I ever been.”

   Spy doesn’t dignify him with a response, and just growls, turning on his heels and stalking out of the room, muttering angrily under his breath. It makes Sniper chuckle. There’s another difference between them; BLU Spy never would have never backed down without at least trying to knock a few of his teeth out first.

   “I’m sorry Sniper,” Engineer addresses him. “Not even I can override a lockdown like this. You’re gonna have to stay in your regulation room here at the base until it’s over.”

   Sniper’s smirk falls instantly. “Shit”

  
  
                                                                                                                        ***

   Sniper has spent so little time in his regulation room, that he almost doesn’t remember where it is or how to get into it. Eventually he finds the room with the ‘Sniper’ logo on it, with a thumb print scanner casually blinking red beside the door. He reaches out and doubtfully sticks his thumb on it. After a few tense seconds, the scanner blinks green and Sniper hears the door unlock. He reaches for the handle and turns it, feeling like an intruder even though this is his room. He flicks on the lights and almost wishes he didn’t. The room is so empty and unused it looks practically spartan. White walls, white mattress with white sheets. The only thing with any color in the room is a red numbered digital alarm clock sitting on the nightstand next to the bed. Hell there aren’t even any windows in the room! Did the others’ rooms look like this? Sniper can’t imagine Scout could mentally survive in a room that looked like this. Sniper just grunts and shuts the door behind him, too tired to even care to wonder when the last time the sheets on the bed were washed. They were never used, so what does it matter? Without ceremony, he plops down onto the bed and does his best to ignore the stale smell that pushes through the air at the motion. He plucks his boots off, his vest and his glasses, letting the first two fall where they may. His glasses he sets on the white single drawer nightstand before standing so he can turn off the lights. Once he does, he carefully makes his way back to the bed even though he knows there’s no conceivable way he can trip on anything in this barren room on his way to the bed. He practically flops down on the mattress, once again, ignoring the slightly dusty smell that tingles his nose. He finally lets the exhaustion from the day fully hit him, and he’s powerless not to fall asleep right then and there.

 

   Even though he’s so exhausted from everything that’s happened, Sniper _still_ probably has the best hearing on the whole team, and he’s a solider more or less, so it’s not surprising that the sound of his door opening is enough to wake him up.

   Whether or not he’s awake enough to do anything about it is a different story. He doesn’t have any weapons stashed away in this room, nothing to reach for to defend himself with, but his brain thankfully reminds him about where he is, and that the base is in lockdown, and that there’s no way that it could be anyone other than a teammate and-

   He smells them. 

   The berry cigarettes.

   Suddenly a thousand times more awake than before, Sniper whips himself up into a sitting position. The lights are still off and the only thing the Australian can see is the red hot glow from the butt of a cigarette floating in the darkness in front of him. And ain’t that an image that’ll stick in his head for a long time? “Whut in the--” He starts to say, but the floating cigarette butt shushes him gently.

   “No need to raise alarm, _Monsieur_ Mundy. It is only me.”

   Lord almighty he sounds like he’s dead on his feet. Sniper hesitates before he asks. “Spy?”

   A wry chuckle moves the glow of the cigarette. “Who else would it be?” It moves again off to the side and Sniper figures Spy has pulled it away from his lips. A gentle exhale almost echoes throughout the small room, and Sniper is way too exhausted and confused for this.

   “How in the hell did you even-”

   “I have my ways,” Spy interrupts again, his voice still sounding tired.

   Infuriating prick. Yet Sniper can’t find it in himself to be angry at the moment. Hell he’s more confused than anything. “You here to kill me?”

   Another wry chuckle. “ _Non_.”

   Sniper makes a face even though Spy can’t see it in the dark. “Then why?”

   The exhale of breath sounds more long suffering this time, and Sniper watches as the glow of the cigarette comes closer. The bed dips and Sniper finds himself scooting back against the wall the head of the bed is pushed against. His eyes are starting to adjust to the darkness, and he can see a shadowy figure surrounding the cigarette glow. Spy doesn’t answer for a long moment, and Sniper has to remind himself to breathe as he stares at the shape of the man. If Spy has the technology to get into the base and his room, there’s no telling what he’s capable of. It would be so fucking easy for Spy to kill him, so fucking easy. He can’t do anything about it either. It’s not like he can warn any of the other team. He doesn’t even know if his teammates are even within earshot to hear him. He is well and truly at Spy’s own mercy, unless he can get his hand on something to defend himself with. His options at the moment are the pillow pressed up against his back, and the glowing alarm clock next to him, which doesn’t help with the warning feeling that’s tingling up and down his spine as he stares at the shape in front of him. “Would it be too forward to say zhat I wanted to see you?” The man asks.

   It catches Sniper off guard. He stares into the darkness for a few good minutes, and Spy doesn’t say anything, leading Sniper to believe that the question was at least half rhetorical. “I don’t understand,” he replies honestly.

   There is more movement in the shadows, and Sniper watches the figure of the man beside him shift closer. He presses himself tighter against the wall, clenching his fists just in case he needs to punch the man. There is no telling what the Frenchman wants to do to him.

   Spy’s mouth is suddenly so close to his in the darkness, and Sniper only realizes it as the faint yet still acrid smell of cigarettes is exhaled against his lips. Sniper can practically _feel_ the ghosting of Spy’s lips over his own as the Frenchman speaks in a tone that is barely audible. “What I feel for you is...inconvenient.”

   When Sniper speaks, it’s in the same hushed almost hesitant tone Spy spoke with, as if he’s scared he’s going to break...whatever spell that they both seem to be under. “Inconvenient?”

   “ _Oui_ ,” is all Spy says before his lips slot against Sniper’s.

   God they’ve only kissed a handful of times but it shouldn’t feel like this. The warmth shouldn’t be so inviting, the taste of it shouldn’t be so familiar and comforting. It shouldn’t feel like…

   Hell it shouldn’t feel like coming home.

   In an instant, Spy pulls his lips away but stays close, just breathing against Sniper’s mouth. A question is on the Australian’s tongue that’s been weighing on his mind this entire time but it’s only now that his consciousness is allowing him to put it to words.

   “Why?”

   Spy’s wry chuckle is quickly becoming something that he doesn’t like. “Please leave it be for now,” and the word still sounds unfamiliar and wrong on the Frenchman’s tongue. “I don’t want to dwell upon it.”

   “Ok…” Sniper breathes, unsure of what’s to come next.

   Apparently another kiss, since Spy breathes out another word as he presses his lips against Sniper's. “ _Merci._ ”

   Even though it’s dark and it’s not like he can see Spy’s face in the first place, Sniper finds his eyes slipping closed. God what the hell is he even doing? Not ten minutes ago he was wary about being killed by this man, and now they’re kissing?

   But hasn’t that been the case more often than not as of late? Instead of the fighting it’s turned into stolen kisses, amongst...other things. What in the hell is even happening with them?

   He let’s Spy kiss him, not particularly pulling away or kissing much back, and it doesn’t take long for the other man to pull back again. “Did I find another way to make you speechless? I figured you would be fighting back by now…” Spy’s tone is still tired, and Sniper feels that sentiment more deeply than he cares to admit.

   “Wot is goin’ on with you?” Sniper asks, and part of him wishes he could see into the man’s eyes. The other part of him is actually worried about what he might see there.

   A chuckle that isn’t too wry slips out of Spy’s lips not quite unlike cigarette smoke. “Zhe only one is zhis world who is allowed to kill you is me, _mon cher_.”

   Sniper chuckles himself. “Yer a selfish prick.”

   Another laugh, but this time against his lips. “Zhat I am.”

   This is so much more different than the last time. Something about the almost complete darkness and the soft yet tired aura permeating the air makes Sniper feel almost lazy and he lets Spy kiss him.

   The darkness also makes it easier to forget what he’s doing, and who he’s doing it with. The darkness is making him brave. A gloved hand caresses his cheek, and the Australian tries to ignore it in favor of deepening the kiss. It only gets more heated from there. It seems like a fire is now burning underneath Spy, and he starts to pull at his own clothes, stripping them off as he kisses Sniper, like he’s unable to stop one activity to focus on the other.

   The taller man’s hands grip Spy’s shoulder, and the Frenchman pulls back. Before Sniper even has a chance to say anything, Spy whispers filthy into his mouth.

   “I would have you _inside me_ , Mundy.”

   Sniper’s cock doesn’t seem to be too adverse to the idea once it’s spoken aloud. Sniper actually _feels_ his cock pulse at the words, and he grunts, pressing his lips to Spy’s again, just a peck. “You can’t jus’ _say_ things like that,” he grumbles, and Spy outright laughs.

   “ _Pardonne-moi_. I’ll be sure to warn your cock next time lest I unexpectedly arouse it further.”  At the vulgar word, Spy grips at his member through his pants, and makes Sniper grunt.

   “You cheeky little-” Sniper starts to say, and wow, this really is completely different from last time. It almost feels like…like one of their games...yet different somehow. Sniper reaches to pull them down because yes, he’ll admit, his cock is kind of ok with being inside of Spy. Ok, maybe more than just ok.

   Yet Spy is too quick, and he shifts, straddling Sniper and taking his face into his hands. The skin feels slightly cold and forever calloused, and Sniper rubs his cheek against them subtly. “Just because I am letting you enter me, Sniper, does not mean zhat I am not still zhe one in control.”

   Sniper reaches to grab the man’s ass, the pitch blackness of the room once again lending him some bravery. “Oh _really_?” He asks.

   One of Spy’s hands lands on his chest and presses him rather roughly against the wall. He leans in close and murmurs, “Shut up and _let me ride you_.” Even though Sniper can’t see very well, he knows that if the lighting were better, Spy would have looked him directly in the eyes to say that. His cock makes another excited twitch in his trousers. Spy must feel it, since he laughs underneath his breath. “Let me help you out with zhat.”

   With far more skill than being in complete darkness should allow, Spy reaches down to unbutton and unzip Sniper’s pants. Without preamble, he pulls the man’s prick out, giving it a few well placed pumps before leaving it alone. “You got an aversion to fuckin’ naked, eh?” Sniper asks through a grunt, rocking his hips up against Spy’s.

   The rustling of clothing proves his question otherwise, but he just barely hears Spy breathe out, “Not enough time,” before leaning forward and kissing the breath out of the Australian.

   Were they on a time limit? Sniper almost breaks apart to ask, but stops dead in his tracks when he feels something brush against his face that he wasn’t expecting.

   It feels like strands of hair.

   Sniper’s eyes snap open, but with the pitch-black room and the close vicinity of Spy’s face, he can’t see. His hands reach up and confirm what his eyes cannot.

   Spy took his mask off.

   Sniper lunges further into the kiss, moaning roughly in the back of his throat as he runs his hands through the silky strands over and over like they’re something precious. They are in a way, aren’t they? What in the world drove Spy to taking his mask off like this?

   Perhaps Sniper wasn’t the only one who obtained a bit of bravery from the cover of darkness.

   Sniper of course knows Spy has stubble, the balaclava doesn’t cover everything, but it’s an entirely different sensation to feel it under his fingertips himself. It scrapes when he runs his fingers against the grain, and the novelty of the feeling isn’t lost on him.

   God he wishes he could see. How different would this be if he could? 

   Spy manages to drag himself out of Sniper’s grip, but he keeps their lips close as he chuckles underneath his breath at Sniper’s enthusiasm.

   The rustling of clothes sort of brings Sniper’s attention downwards, and he feels stupid when he tries to look down to locate the origin of the sound even though he knows he can’t see. Spy grunts and shifts again, hauling himself forward a little bit and Sniper scrambles to try to find his hips to hold onto. He manages after about thirty seconds of groping and getting tangled up in Spy’s rumpled clothing, and he’s once again struck at how warm Spy’s skin is. The Frenchman’s voice is full of gravel and it grates against Sniper’s ears and makes a shiver run up and down his spine. “Hold your cock for me.” Sniper blinks. Is Spy really going to try to do this without any preparation? Sniper hesitates moving his hands from Spy’s hips and the other man just sighs roughly and places a not-too-gentle kiss nearly on Sniper’s eye. It’s good to know that he’s not the only one having trouble with the 'not-being-able-to-see' element of this tryst. “I already prepared myself, so stop worrying.”

   Sniper can’t help swallowing around the sudden knot in his throat. He also can’t help the way his mind races and his cock throbs at the idea of Spy pressing well lubricated fingers into himself so he would be ready for Sniper’s cock. The Frenchman had planned this in advance, then, and that thought sends another dangerous throb through his dick. The Australian suddenly scrambles to center his cock so that Spy can sink down onto it. It takes a bit of fumbling, a bit of both of them reaching and brushing against one another to make sure the angle and everything is right. Sniper lets out a shaky breath when something wet and hot presses against his tip, and when Spy finally starts to sink down, the taller man can’t help but let out a shaky moan.

   Fuck but it had been a long time since he had fucked anybody. Well, it's also the first time he's fucking a man, but honestly his mind isn’t occupied by that, but by the sheer heat and pressure surrounding his cock. They sit there for what feels like forever but simultaneously no time at all, waiting for Spy to get used to the feeling of Sniper’s cock splitting him open.

   If Sniper thought that just being inside Spy was going to make his head explode along with his cock, it’s nothing compared to when Spy starts moving.

   He doesn’t start off slow either, and Sniper is frankly kind of thankful for that, he wasn’t sure he was even going to last if Spy wanted to drag it out, and it’s nice to know that Spy seems just as affected by this as he is. Spy takes him in long stroke, raising himself up until just the tip of Sniper’s cock is inside him, threatening to slip out, before dropping all of his weight back onto Sniper’s lap, moaning and mumbling in french underneath his breath.

   Not being able to see Spy above him makes Sniper focus entirely on what he’s feeling, and it’s like his sense of touch and hearing have been multiplied tenfold. He can feel every minute twitch that runs through Spy’s body as he rides him, can hear every little grunt, every little exhale of pleasure, and it’s making Sniper’s brain foggy with pleasure. His grip on Spy’s hips is nearly white knuckle, and it must hurt, but he can’t find it in himself to care too much, needing something to physically ground him in the moment.

   He doesn’t even think about thrusting until a particularly downward thrust on Spy’s part makes him cry out, and Sniper doesn’t even think about the others hearing them. He doesn’t even control his hips as he thrusts them upwards, making another noise leak out of the other man’s mouth. He must have hit that spot, that spot that Sniper knows makes everything feel like molten lava is pulsing through your veins. The thought of bringing Spy that, making him feel what Spy made _him_ feel, suddenly brings Sniper dangerously close. He starts to thrust with vigor, and Spy can’t seem to stop the little noises and curses in french that leak out of his mouth on every downstroke.

   Suddenly his weight shifts, and Sniper has a face full of Frenchman, It takes a couple of times and uncomfortable clicks and bumps for their lips to finally meet again. Their lips can’t stay pressed together for long, the need for air too great as they pant in practical unison. Spy eventually seems to think that the idea of kissing is futile, and drops his head to press it against Sniper’s neck, and Sniper can actually _feel_ every little pant and exhale and whine that drips out of Spy’s mouth now.

   The taller man manages to wrench one of his hands away from Spy’s hips and finds himself burying it in his hair, pressing the other man even closer into his neck. God he’s getting close, can feel it pooling in his lower belly, can feel it pulsing in his cock. He grips the surprisingly soft strands of Spy’s hair tighter, and it earns him another mumble of french, closer to his ear this time, but no easier to understand.

   Sniper figures that Spy is getting close too, since he grips Sniper’s biceps hard and his strokes start to get a little frantic. He’s not moving as much, just rabbiting his hips like he’s so close to coming that he can’t be bothered to move more than he is. He’s panting open mouthed against Sniper’s neck, occasionally giving some kisses and bites against the skin. The pants get faster, desperate little moans leaking out of Spy’s mouth like he can’t get enough of Sniper’s cock in him and fuck Sniper is a hairsbreadth away from coming.

   Suddenly, Spy bites him hard on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, feeling like he’s bitten hard enough to draw blood by the shock of pain that shoots through his veins. Sniper practically shouts, the pain somehow mixing with the pleasure and exploding across his eyelids as Spy’s channel clenches sharply around his cock. He thrusts up one one and a half more times before he can’t take it anymore and he comes, his grip on Spy’s hip and hair becoming almost too tight to bare. Yet the Australian doesn’t care at the face of the white hot pleasure that short circuits his brain and disconnects it from anything that doesn’t have to do with thrusting and emptying his cock into the warm, willing body above. He hears another groan around the wound in his neck, sending another _zing_ of pleasure through his blood and making his hips buck deeper into the body on top of him.

   Finally, his brain reconnects and he starts to regain his senses. The first thing that comes back to him his his sense touch, as Spy finally removes his teeth from his now throbbing neck, or is it his shoulder? _Fuck_. The second thing that comes back to him is his hearing. Spy sags against him and lays there, his harsh pants from before dying down as he catches his breath. The exhales of air rush across the wound and it makes Sniper twitch at the pain. Spy sighs and shifts, resting on Sniper’s right side instead, still not moving more than to drape himself across Sniper’s body. The Frenchman is warm, and Sniper always had a habit of getting sleepy after a good orgasm while on and/or in a bed; he blinks several long blinks. His vision is still not back to him yet but hell he didn’t really even have that in the first place, did he?

   The third thing to come back to him is his voice, and he murmurs a low, “We should get cleaned up,” without making any attempt to move the man on top of him.

   Spy doesn’t respond with words, but sits up with a shudder and a grunt, Sniper’s softening cock slipping out of his frankly well used hole. Sniper shivers as well, more for the fact that his cock is still quite sensitive than anything else.

   Spy begins to move, shifting out of his straddle of Sniper’s hips, and the marksman just sort of lays there, following the vague shape of the other man with his eyes. There is a question living on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to get out, but for some reason it can’t make the final leap out of his mouth. So he swallows it down and buries it deep in favor of pulling his pants back up once Spy dismounts from his lap. The marksman continues to follow the vague shadow in the darkness, wondering if he stares hard enough, maybe he'll be able to actually see Spy’s face. Now that he's had a more tactile look at the Frenchman’s face, he can't help but finds himself curious. His neck is starting to throb and it's a good distraction. He pulls his eyes away even though it's still hard to see and reaches up to run a gentle finger over the bite mark. He hisses as it stings, but it doesn't feel like the skin has been broken enough to bleed too much. He won't be able to tell for certain until he's in the vicinity of a mirror.

   A match is struck and the action startles Sniper. The flicker of light from the match in the dark room is impossibly bright for just a moment, and Sniper catches a glimpse of Spy’s face for just a moment.

   He put his mask back on.

   Damn.  

   They're plunged into darkness just one moment later, the only light the dim sparks from the end of the cigarette that only glows brighter when Spy's takes a drag. The strange yet familiar tang of the berry and tobacco tingles his nose as Sniper breathes, and he chuckles almost without realizing. When did that scent become a comfort rather than a warning??

   “Somezhing funny?” Spy asks softly, slightly muffled though the cigarette dangling from his lips.

   “You still smokin' those,” Sniper replies with a smirk.

   In a split moment, his chin is being held in a tight gloved grip, and Sniper almost panics and swings out, unable to suppress his fight or flight reflex even after what the two of them have done together. But instead of a strike or something akin to it like he expects, Spy presses the cigarette filter to his lips. There’s not much force behind the move, just a consistent pressure to his lips. The smell is more acrid this close to him, but Sniper finds himself opening his mouth, his lips parting just enough for Spy to slip the cigarette past his lips.

   Neither of them say anything as Sniper inhales, and the Australian resists the urge to cough. Damn it’s been too long since he had one of these. He let’s the smoke sting in his lungs before exhaling a light cloud of smoke, not even caring whether it gets into Spy's face or not.

   Spy pulls the cigarette back and Sniper watches the Frenchman take another drag for himself, and the gunman can’t help but think of it as an indirect kiss. He let’s out a breathless chuckle and looks away. After everything they just did, he’s thinking about an indirect kiss.

   He’s an idiot.

   “I need to go,” Spy says after a moment, impossibly soft.

   Sniper doesn’t respond, because he knows that Spy is nothing but stubborn, and once he makes a decision to do something, he’ll do it, no matter what the cost. If the past few-God had it been months even?-is any indication, Spy is very good at getting what he wants.

   They sit there, in somewhat companionable silence, not talking about what just happened, and not about what’s going to happen now between them. It seems like all of the bravery they gained in the darkness is used up now.

   Spy’s cigarette goes out. Sniper simply listens as the Frenchman shifts, moving around for a minute or two before presumably going for the door. He finally hears the door knob turn, and the light from the outside corridor-however dim it is-illuminates Spy’s silhouette in almost a stark relief.

   “See ya when this shit blows over.” Sniper can’t help but try to have the last word.

   He does.

   Spy exits his room without so much as a backwards glance or a word in edgewise. The door closes, the room plunged into darkness once again, and Sniper is alone.

   
    Sleep doesn’t come.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to read through this for mistakes but if there's anything glaringly wrong let me know!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Holy moly! I'd just like to say thank you SO much to those of you who have stuck by this fic for what, around three years? And for those of you who've just found this fic, consider yourself lucky you didn't have to wait as long lol. We are actually winding down to the end here folks.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, for those of you who were worried about Spy.
> 
> You should be.

  The lockdown lasts three whole days. 

  The morning after the entire incident, Sniper almost figures it was just some sort of elaborate dream, but when Engineer informs him over ‘too early in the morning to rightfully be awake’ coffee that nothing has changed, Sniper prepares for the long haul.

  The rest of the team spends the day either doing combat drills, planning what their next moves should be, or preparing for the inevitable return to battle. There’s a murmur in the air that still buzzes around Sniper’s ears, each of his teammates wondering why the hell BLU Spy had done what he had done, and he ignores the tightness in his gut. After what happened the night before, he’s got an inkling as to why, and he’s not sure he likes it.

 

_'What I feel for you is...inconvenient.'_

 

  That’s what Spy had said.

  So really, if he were to think about this in the logical sense, he is partially responsible for the lockdown.

  No, that ain’t right. He has no control over what Spy feels and what Spy does. Spy does what he wants, and always has. It’s just that now something that Spy has done actually has a consequence. Up until now it was just a game he and Sniper played, nothing too serious, nothing that could drastically change the tides of the war they were fighting.

  Now? Sniper wasn’t sure.

  From the looks of it, Spy had betrayed his own team, but not really right? Spy had said that he was the only one allowed to kill Sniper, and was that really betrayal? It’s too confusing, Spy’s motives still aren’t clear, and Sniper is no closer to an answer than he was last night.

  If that ain’t the thing that’s eating away at him now, nothing is. It used to be easy, it used to just be wanting to outsmart one another, or kill one another. Then….then Spy had thrown _feelings_ into it, and now look at what happened.

 

  “Sniper,” a voice pulls the Australian out of his head and back to the mess hall where he’s absently staring at his now lukewarm, ‘too early in the morning to rightfully be awake,’ coffee.

  It’s RED Spy who spoke to him, and Sniper can’t rightfully make his face form anything other than a slight sneer. “Yeh?”

  The abrupt answer seems to give RED Spy pause, and Sniper can tell there is only a thinly veiled layer of disgust permeating the other man’s features. “Trouble sleeping?” He says, almost like an accusation.

  “Sleepin’ in a place you ain’t used to can do that,” Sniper replies with equally thinly veiled disgust. He isn’t for doing this talk RED Spy seems to be gearing them up for, it’s too damn early and he’s too damn tired. He knows that RED Spy will want to talk about _his_ Spy like that’s not the only thing he’s thought about all night.

  Damnit. Spy ain’t his. He needs more coffee.

  RED Spy’s smile is tight and Sniper doesn’t like the fact that RED Spy seems to hide all of his intentions between these fake little layers of politeness and so called, ‘poise’. With BLU Spy, you knew where you stood, if he didn’t like you, he’d tell you.

  At least that’s what Sniper had thought until last night.

   _Jesus_ he needs to stop thinking about that. But without anything to distract him, not firefight or place to go for the time being, what the hell else was he supposed to do?

  “Quite,” is what RED Spy says when he finally does speak.

  “You need anythin’ or are you just sayin’ hello?” Sniper asks. Might as well get the inevitable conversation out of the way on his terms.

  RED Spy nods slightly. “I have somezhing I wish to discuss with you. Perhaps a walk?” He ads, gesturing out of the mess hall.

  The Australian man shrugs, still frowning, still making it obvious to RED Spy that this ain’t a conversation he’s going to like. “After you,” he says, gesturing in the same direction with his coffee mug. RED Spy’s smile is all fake.

  They walk in silence for long moments, and Sniper sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to initiate conversation when he’s not the one who wants to have it in the first place. RED Spy finally starts to speak, and it’s rather hushed as they stroll throughout the base. “I’ve done some digging concerning zhe lockdown.” He starts, not even waiting for a response from Sniper before continuing. All well and good to Sniper, since he doesn’t want to talk anyway. “It seems what you said was true.”

  Sniper just snorts into his coffee, as if the notion of him being correct is painful for RED Spy to admit. “Imagine that,” he says, unable to keep from sounding smug.

  RED Spy doesn’t dignify it with a response that’s more than a restrained rolling of his eyes. “BLU Spy shot down BLU Heavy in zhe firefight. Whezher or not it was intentional is still a matter of concern.”

  “And yer tellin’ me this, why?” Sniper asks, trying to ignore how unpleasant his now cooling coffee tastes.

  “I checked some surveillance last night,” RED Spy continues as if he hadn’t even spoken, and it takes all of Sniper’s self control not to react adversely to the statement. He listens more carefully than before, trying to sneak glances out of the corner of his eyes to gauge RED Spy’s reactions as he speaks. The other man stops walking suddenly, and Sniper jerks to a stop as well. A terse moment of silence passes before RED Spy speaks again. “Your door lock was activated zhree times last night.” He counts on his fingers as he speaks. “Once soon after you announced you were turning in for zhe night, anozher several hours later, and the final one about an hour or so after zhat.”

  Sniper swallows, his heart beat starting to pick up. If he’s found out...God he doesn’t want to think about it. Thankfully the Australian has always had great pride in his poker face. He stares RED Spy directly in the eyes as the lie tumbles out of his mouth. “Needed a piss and a walk, Frenchman,” he replies, not liking the nickname on his tongue. It was better than calling him by his title though, because...well because to Sniper that wasn’t this man’s name. That was the name of the man that last night confided in him some sort of feelings that the Australian still wasn’t entirely sure were truthful, clear, or even understood by Spy himself. “Like I said earlier, trouble sleepin’ and all that.”

  Sniper immediately knows that RED Spy doesn’t believe him from the almost imperceptible narrowing of the other man’s eyes. Sniper’s muscles tense, ready to either run, or ready for a punch if RED Spy deems to throw one his way.

  Surprisingly, the hit or the accusations don’t come. Instead, RED Spy seems done, his face dropping flat. All of the fake niceties and the poise from before melt away, and frankly, RED Spy looks about as tired as Sniper feels. A weird pang of some feeling Sniper can’t place echoes through him and he doesn’t like it, not in the least.

  RED Spy’s words are careful as they exit his mouth. “Whatever is happening Sniper, whezher or not you have an ulterior motive, I advise you to be careful.” The Frenchman’s eyebrows press low over his eyes. “You know as well as I do zhat BLU Spy will do whatever he wants to get his way. In zhis situation I cannot say what his intentions are...but I would not take what he says and does lightly or for granted.”

  Sniper stares back, blinking hard but not responding. So RED Spy knows...something. What that something is is lost on Sniper. He doesn’t like this, he doesn’t like this at all. If RED Spy knows something is up, why has he not reported him? Why are they here having this conversation at all? All of Sniper’s muscles are tense again, and RED Spy’s eyes flick to the lock of of his shoulders. “I can take care of myself,” Sniper says, and is even surprised at how level and stern the words sound.

  RED Spy gives him another once over and sighs, reaching into his coat jacket for a cigarette. Sniper watches with careful eyes as the other man places it in his mouth, lights it, and takes a drag.

  Wrong smell, wrong smell, _wrong smell!_

  RED Spy turns away then, starting to walk off. Sniper doesn’t follow after him, but keeps his eyes trained on the retreating figure. Then, as if as an afterthought, RED Spy speaks over his shoulder. The tone has just a tinge of darkness to it, something under the surface that Sniper absolutely does _not_ want to analyze.

  “He is dangerous. Trust me.”

  Without another word, Sniper watches him stride down the corridor until he can’t see him anymore.

  Fuck.

  Fucking fuck.

  RED Spy leaves him alone after that. Well, as alone as one can be when you’re locked down with your teammates in one building. RED Spy doesn’t speak to him, but the looks Sniper can feel whenever they’re in the same room are...frankly rather intimidating, and annoying. Sniper is on edge, cooped up in the base, and the looks from RED Spy aren’t doing the paranoia any favors. It feels like he’s a puzzle, and the more RED Spy sees him, the more RED Spy looks, the more he’s going to figure out.  

  And when he figures it out, what is he going to do?

  He should have sent Spy away that night. He shouldn’t have fallen into bed with him again. He shouldn’t have lied about what had happened. He’s digging himself deeper and deeper into a hole now, where if anyone finds out about what happened…..well Sniper considers himself better off dead.

  He thought he could handle it. That’s where he went wrong. Spy started giving him special attention, and since it started out in the form of hatred and fighting, Sniper had thought he could handle it.

  What was it even now? Did Sniper even hate Spy anymore? Did he even hate him to start with?

 

  ' _What I feel for you is….inconvenient.’_

 

  “I dunno, but it ain’t like everthin’s gonna go back ta normal now right?” Scout’s voice grates Sniper’s ears and pulls him out of his head. He’s been at the practice range now, shooting mindlessly for...well he’s not sure how long he’s been in here.

  It takes Sniper a moment to actually realize that Scout isn’t talking to him, but rather Engineer, who has taken on the role of a sort of middle-man between the team and the higher ups. Any new information regarding the lockdown, they get from him. Sniper only glances at them out of the corner of his eyes as he reloads his rifle with quick, practiced movements.

  Engineer must have been in the room longer than he thought, since it looks like the man is working on some gadget by his feet. His normal bright yellow hard-hat is at his side, and he’s idly wiping his gloved hands with a dirty rag as Scout speaks with him.

  Sniper only glances at the target for a second before firing. It goes to show how desensitized they all are to the sound of gunshots when neither of the other men stop their conversation or hardly even react. The bullet hits dead center in the bullseye.

  Sniper reloads without looking and continues to eavesdrop. Well it’s not like they’re talking about anything sordid, but he gets the distinct feeling they think he isn’t listening.

  He hasn’t really ever given them a reason to think that he’d listen. He doesn’t spend much time outside of battle talking with any of them besides the occasional meal, meeting, or training. He doesn’t seek out their company and conversation really, never had a reason to. He’s here to do a job, and as long as he can get along with his co-workers enough and trust them enough on the battlefield to watch his back and vice versa, he doesn’t see much need in...in well trying to become friends.

  A thought flashes through his mind as he pulls the trigger.

  Are he and Spy friends?

  The Australian swears as the bullet lands just outside the bullseye. The conversation behind him stops dead in it’s tracks, and he can feel Engineer and Scout’s eyes boring into him from the side.

  “You ok there, partner?” Engineer asks carefully, and Sniper scoffs as he reloads.

  “Hand twitched.” He lies easily. He’s been doing that quite a lot lately.

  Thankfully, neither of his teammates question the lie, and regard him only for a moment more, before Scout goes back to talking. Though by this point, Sniper has stopped listening.

   _Friends?_ He scolds his brain. _Where in the bloody fuck you get an idea like that?_

  They aren’t friends.

  Friends don’t try to kill each other like it’s a game on a near daily basis.

  Friends aren’t on the opposite side of a war.

  Friends don’t fuck each other.

 

  ' _What I feel for you is….inconvenient.’_

  Friends don’t have inconvenient _feelings_.

  He doesn’t reload his rifle. He pops the shell casing out of the chamber and listens as it clatters to the concrete floor below. It sounds heavy in his ears and he can’t help but frown at it.

  Once again, Spy has to go and make everything so fucking complicated. The Frenchman is too fucking good at it.

  With more vehemence that’s warranted with other people in the room, Sniper stands and slings his rifle over his shoulder. He leans over to pick up the small pile of shell casings next to him, telegraphing to him how long he’s actually been here, halfway in his own head. He deposits the casings in a designated bin before glancing at the several targets he was shooting at. All in the bullseye.

  Except for one.

  Sniper scowls and resists the urge to scuff at the ground with his boots. The sight of the one shot outside the bullseye is an eyesore, a testament to what Spy fucking does to him.

  He stalks past the two others, who’s conversation has once again stopped in favor of watching him. If only they fucking knew.

  They can’t know.

  He slings his weapons into his locker with less care than he probably should, but he’s _pissed_ dammit, and finding an outlet while being confined is becoming increasingly hard. If only he could go out for a drive, clear his head and get away from this God forsaken base and the war that’s going on in the desert and in his brain.

  Too fucking bad. All of Sniper’s anger seems to sap out of him and it leaves him exhausted. He closes his locker with more care and rubs at his eyes from behind his glasses. He just has to stick this out until he sees Spy again. After what happened, they need to finally be fucking adults and talk about what’s going on.

_Is he going to see Spy again?_

  He can almost feel his stomach constrict at the thought. With all this lockdown business and the rumor floating around that Spy has betrayed his own team, what’s going to happen to the Frenchman? Is he going to be able to talk his way around what so clearly happened on the battlefield-God was it only days ago?-and get himself out of trouble? Is he even in trouble?

  The endless questions are going to tear him apart before the lockdown even ends. He needs answers. He fucking _needs_ them, but he sure as hell ain’t getting any. The more that time passes, the more everything seems to be falling apart at the seams. What the hell are they even supposed to do? He knows, Sniper knows at the very pit of his soul in a place that he doesn’t want to admit, that whenever-if ever-this lockdown ends, nothing is going to be the same.

  It’s terrifying.

  Sniper barely resists the urge to slide against the nearest wall and onto the floor. The war was never this complicated before. He just had a job to do, and he had to go and bugger it all up just because some Frenchman wormed his way into his brain.

 _They_ . _They_ had to go and bugger it all up. Sniper isn’t alone in this.

 

_'What I feel for you is….inconvenient.’_

 

  What are they?

 

  He feels like a zombie, stumbling around without a purpose other than to keep himself alive. He needs to know, he needs to see how this is all going to play out, for better or for worse. It’s the only thing really keeping him going at this point, so stuck in his brain in a way that he doesn’t think he ever has been before.

  He eats only enough to sustain himself, tries to distract himself in any way he can, and even though exhaustion is starting to wear down to his very bones, he lays awake for hours on end, his brain running back through every moment he’s ever had with Spy.

  Memories from the beginning are harder to place, harder to put a personality to the mask, so to speak. It’s interesting, to think back to memories you have of a person before you really even knew them. Little flashes of moments you knew happened, but it’s like looking at them through someone else’s eyes. The eyes of a stranger, of an acquaintance.

  Of an enemy.

  They’re not really enemies anymore, Sniper can at least admit that. They passed the boundaries of that long ago. Yet they’re not friends either, Sniper can admit that to himself with confidence as well. He can’t imagine spending time with Spy in a domestic setting, the entire idea just seems so preposterous that his brain can’t even begin to process it.

  They’ve shared physical intimacy, and he enjoyed it. The latter is harder to admit than the former. He’d like to blame it on hormones or the heat of the moment, but when he’s like this, alone in his starchy white regulation bed in his regulation room, in the dark where it all happened, he can admit to at least himself that he enjoyed it.

  Trust was needed for that, and they freely gave it to one another. Sniper still remembers the texture of Spy’s hair tingling on his fingertips. Yes, they used the cover of darkness as a shield so as to not show _too_ much, as to not trust _too_ much, but it was a symbol in and of itself.

  Spy trusted him.

  And God what a thought that is.

 

  He’d like to blame his lack of sleep on the unfamiliar room, the unfamiliar sheets, and the glaring red numbers on the alarm clock, but Sniper knows deep down what’s keeping him awake.

  Several things really, all at once. Yet all those things conglomerate into one overbearing and terrifying thing.

  The Unknown. What the next morning will bring, not knowing his next move.

  Not knowing anything.

  The only reason he falls asleep the night of the third day is because he’s so exhausted that his body literally can’t take it anymore.

  It doesn’t mean he rests peacefully. His dreams make sure of that.

  It feels like mere minutes later when he’s jolted awake with a pounding at his door, and he’s still too used to his van since he tries to pull a knife out from underneath his pillow. Distracted, exhausted and disoriented, Sniper stands, staggering over towards the door. It takes him three tries to remember that the door won’t open without a thumbprint, and when he finally yanks it open to shout at the person _still_ slamming their fist against the door, he comes face to face with Scout, his eyes wide and his fist still raised. “ _What_?” Sniper can’t help hissing.

  Scout’s eyes don’t get any smaller, and if Spy were to have the wherewithal he’d be able to recognize the dark circles under the younger man’s eyes.

  “Lockdown’s ovah.”

  With his exhaustion addled brain, it takes Sniper three times as long to understand what Scout is trying to tell him, but when it finally does, he feels his stomach drop and his eyes widen about as much as Scout’s, maybe more. “Yer serious?” He growls.

  Scout has it in him to look offended. “Would I joke about dis?” He looks off down the hall for a moment before returning his attention to Sniper. “Get ya shit togetha’, we’re goin’ out.”

  The younger man bolts off before Sniper gets a chance to ask, “Where?” And really, he shouldn’t have to ask where. He knows where they’re going.

  They’re going back out on the field.

  Since he fell asleep in most of his clothes, it doesn’t take him long to get ready.

  So today is the day he’s going to start getting answers, for better, or for worse. He doesn’t know what his strategy is going to be, or whether or not he’s even going to get to see Spy, or what-if anything-happened to him, but he’s here now, and he needs to push forward.

 

  Even though it’s only been three days, the entire team gathering at the gates with their weapons at the ready feels almost foreign. It’s feels more like three years than 72 hours. Everyone looks to Engineer, who’s frowning slightly. No one seems to want to voice what they’re all thinking. What in the hell are they gonna do out there?

  Engineer thankfully answers, but it makes Sniper frown. “I was told for all of us to proceed as normal unless extreme circumstances. Keep an eye out for weaknesses if they have ‘em, an’ keep on your toes.”

  “So they think they can just sweep alla this under the rug?” Sniper grunts, shifting his rifle back up over his shoulder. He isn’t nervous, that’s not what he would call the heaviness building up in his gut. He doesn’t know what to call it, but he doesn’t like it.

  Engineer sighs. “I dunno what BLU’s thinking, all I know is that we got intel that they’re going back out on the field, and we’re ta meet ‘em there.”

  “Just like old times,” Soldier swings his shovel up into his shoulder, a manic grin stretching his features.

  A tired sounding French accent floats just underneath the other conversation to Sniper’s right, and it makes the Australian flinch. “You know as well as I zhat once we go out zhere, it will never be zhe same.”

  Sniper doesn’t glance up at RED Spy, not really ready to acknowledge what he’s about to-or not about to-face soon. Instead he sighs lowly, pushing his hat more securely down onto his head. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  The Announcer’s voice breaks through the team’s quiet rumblings, and the anticipation makes all conversation dissipate as the RED team readies themselves for the unknown.

  Even though all of them know that there’s no real way to prepare for it.

 The Announcer begins the countdown, and Sniper can practically hear his own heartbeat syncing up with it.

  When the klaxon blares and the gates unlock, everything seems to come back to him all in a rush. He can do this, he's done this a thousand times before, and damn it all, it's gonna take more than what's happened to stop him from doing it a thousand times more.

  Not if he can help it.

  The entire team falls back into rhythm like it was orchestrated. Scout bolts ahead of the others, a frankly grim and determined look marring his features. No one bothers to yell after him, they all know the calls will go unheeded.

  The first few minutes are always the most tense, when everyone from each team is getting into position. The calm before the storm, before the first shot is fired and everything goes to hell in a hand basket.

  Medic is staying steadily behind Heavy, his ubercharge ready at any moment should they need it. Engineer is setting up sentries around the perimeter just as fast as his legs can carry him. Soldier and Pyro have taken to flanking just outside Heavy and Medic, there for support if they need it.

  RED Spy is nowhere to be seen, but it’s not like that’s not a common occurrence regardless.

  That leaves Sniper.

  The entire team seems to actually have a plan, however half cocked up it may seem, so he’s at a bit of a loss. Are they expecting him to follow some sort of plan? Or are they expecting him to just go off and do his thing? Hell it never really failed him before.

  Before everything happened anyway.

  He decides to go off to his perch. As far as he knows, Spy is the only one one of the BLU’s who actually knows how to get there, so he’s not worried about being spotted by anyone else except for maybe his BLU counterpart, but what good will two Sniper’s constantly taking each other out do? They both have better targets to take care of.

  With SMG gripped tightly in hand and his kukri and shotgun slung over his shoulder, Sniper traipses ever so carefully towards his perch. His ears are perked for any sudden sounds, anything at all that could lead him to believe that he’s been seen. He’s never liked this part, even less so now. He used to know what to expect when they all went out to the firefight. Now…..it’s all he can do to take it a second at a time.

  He doesn’t jolt when he hears the first gunshots and shouting, he’s too desensitized to the sound by now, but it does throw his guard and his senses up to 100%. It’s started and there’s no going back now. He needs to get to up high.

  He takes a sharp right and crosses over a bridge-not towards his perch since it feels like there’s no time-and he curses himself immediately for the decision as he runs almost directly into the BLU Scout. Sniper swears and plonks the boy on the head with the butt of his SMG, hopefully knocking him out. Sniper oversteps him and he knows he should check to see if that actually knocked the boy out but he doesn’t have time.

  He keeps running, the mantra of ‘need to get up high, need to get up high’ not helping him in the least. Finally, he reaches a series of several ladders and begins his climb, trying to quickly but carefully tackle the things while still holding on to his SMG. He makes it to the second level, and it’s only due to his years of training and experience that he doesn’t drop his gun where he stands.

  He watches as two masked figures fight in the open air, guns seemingly forgotten as they swipe at one another with their knives. They are shouting at one another, or at least RED Spy is, long streams of words that Sniper can’t understand. If he had enough in him to concentrate he’d probably recognize it as French even though he can’t understand it.

  They turn, and RED Spy’s eyes just briefly flick towards him, and it’s his undoing. The other man seizes the momentary distraction and knocks the knife out of RED Spy’s hands and swings, dragging his blade violently across RED Spy’s throat.

  His teammate is dead and already starting the respawn process before he hits the ground.

  The other man turns to look at him.

  Sniper would like to say that everything around them stops as he stares, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s an actual miracle that no one else has shot or come upon either of them as they stare each other down. Sniper can’t move even though he knows that he should, every ounce of strength and will feels like it’s draining out of his body through his feet the longer he stands there.

  The eyes that stare straight back have not a single fleck of recognition in them, and even though the ‘uniform’ is the same, even though to any of his other teammates there’s no difference, Sniper knows.

 

  It’s not him.

 

  There’s cold and calculated professionalism in the eyes of the man in front of him, and as he raises his pistol and aims it at Sniper, his expression doesn’t change. “Fool,” He murmurs as he pulls the trigger.

  

  

  

  


End file.
